


Arrogance

by AsexualDerek (Cammerel)



Series: Character Growth [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Arguing, Banter, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Jackson Whittemore, Bullying, Consensual Infidelity, Discrimination, Fights, First Time Blow Jobs, Foreplay, Handcuffs, Harassment, Hate Sex, Infidelity, Light Bondage, M/M, Quickies, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Teasing, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/AsexualDerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Jackson’s secret affair takes a sudden, unexpected turn that at least one of them isn’t ready for. It was easier when it was just about sex, but even he knows that things can’t continue on if they stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles rolls his eyes knowingly when Jackson’s throw misses the net and he moves in, feeling his blood boil as he prods Jackson in the shoulder, “I was open,” He says breathlessly, “I had a clear shot of the net, you should’ve passed to me. Would it **really** kill you to work with the members of your team?”

Jackson feels the irritation bubble up under his skin the moment Stiles starts talking, but when his teammate prods at his shoulder, he quickly gets defensive, “You know what, Stilinski? Maybe it would, considering I have to play nice with dipshits like you and McCall.”

He throws his stick down and shoves at Stiles’s shoulders, “I had a shot, so I took it. Granted I missed, but it’s not like you would’ve made the shot either.”

“I would’ve,” Stiles responds, standing his ground and pushing Jackson back with one hand, “I didn’t have anyone flanking me, and you had **two**. You can’t just stand there and assume that everyone else will miss, even if you **didn’t** miss, you have to trust your team, moron, otherwise this would be a one on one game. Spoiler alert, it’s not.”

“In the entire time we’ve been on this team together, you’ve made what? Like, all of three shots?” Jackson retorts, glaring viciously at Stiles, “You wouldn’t have made it, so maybe you should just stop throwing your little hissy fit.”

He shoves at Stiles again and advances, the mouth guards of their helmets clacking together as he stares Stiles down, “It’s a miracle Finstock is even letting you play, you should be on the bench.”

“At least I can recognize the fact that I can’t make shots, but I would’ve made that one,” Stiles says and shoves Jackson out of his face, “He should bench **you** , you’re the only person on this team that acts like a one man show. You’re not as good as you think you are, and you’re all talk. Maybe if you threw to other players on **your** team, you might stand a chance of them getting better, instead of showing everyone how horribly you actually suck.”

Jackson snarls at that and tackles Stiles to the ground, amazed at how easy it is for the other boy to get under his skin, and it **never** fails. All Stiles really has to do is open his mouth and that alone is enough to frustrate him for the rest of the week. He can’t really do much damage while they both have all of their gear on, but he makes a valiant attempt at punching Stiles in the ribs, ignoring both Finstock and McCall shouting at him.

“You know,” He grunts, “One of these days, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“One of these days you’ll stop acting like you have a Lacrosse stick shoved up your ass,” Stiles says, dodging Jackson’s blows the best he can as he shakes his head and sighs, “Sadly, that day is not today.”

He glances up as Scott yanks Jackson off of him and Stiles stands slowly, rubbing his side and passing Finstock as he dismisses himself. It’s typical of them to squabble, Jackson is an asshole, but it never gets out of hand unless they both _want_ it to.

He showers quickly and changes into his normal clothes before leaving the boy's locker room and walking out to his Jeep, and then he stands there and waits.

* * *

Jackson waits a little bit longer to stalk off from the field so that it won’t be suspicious. He can faintly hear Finstock yelling at him, but he’s got a one track mind right now so he tunes it out and makes his way to the locker room.

The effect Stiles has on him infinitely pisses him off, and it’s not really something he can control either, because God knows he’s tried - he doesn’t like that things end up like this **every** single time they argue. Most of the time he can hardly tolerate the mouthy, annoying little shit, but then their adrenaline gets pumping and it’s like there’s not a force in the world that could prevent it from happening.

Jackson showers quickly and shoves all of his things into his bag when he’s done, then slings the duffel over his shoulder before heading out to the parking lot, rolling his eyes when he sees Stiles standing resolutely next to his jeep.

“Of course we’re taking your vehicle, great.” He opens the back latch and tosses his bag in, “Just how I wanted to spend the rest of my evening, lounging in a piece of shit vehicle.”

“Mine has more space, and you know it does,” Stiles says, smirking as he climbs into the driver’s side, waiting for Jackson to settle in before he takes off.

He’s still practically fuming from the fight, but he carries himself well, especially when Jackson is concerned. He knows the guy is just all talk, that’s all he ever is. He already knows every step of this. They fight, they leave, they meet up, and when they get into it, Jackson gets embarrassingly submissive. He’ll never admit it, but Stiles knows that’s exactly where it’s going to go.

Once he’s out of Scott’s earshot, he turns and raises his brows to Jackson, “It’s hard to fuck you in that little bachelor car of yours.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what the hood is for, dumbass,” Jackson snarks back and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, turning to glare at Stiles suddenly, “And who said you were fucking me this time?” He asks defensively, even though he already knows that’s what he wants. It's what he **always** wants and honestly, he doesn’t see it changing anytime soon, but the fact that Stiles immediately assumes makes him see red.

“You did,” Stiles responds knowingly, “You do **every** time. It’s okay, baby, I know how you like it.”

He knows he’s getting cocky, pun intended, and that he’s rubbing it in, but that also seems to be what Jackson likes. Stiles knows him so well by now that he knows things like that, how Jackson wants the arguing and the fighting to continue; he likes when Stiles pushes things.

The first time, he’d been so clumsy and red-faced that Jackson was practically rocking back and forth on is dick like a dog in heat or something. The sounds he makes when he’s not constantly bitching are dirty as Hell, and Stiles can hear them echo in his head for hours afterwards.

Jackson continues to glare, but he can’t stop the way his skin flushes violently at the pet name, “Would you just shut the fuck up and drive?”

It’s not fair that Stiles can get him so flustered with just a stupid fucking word and the worst part is, is that Stiles knows what he’s capable of and for some ungodly reason, Jackson always lets him get away with it - but only when they’re alone.

“One of those I’m already doing, and the other one you don’t want me to **stop** doing,” Stiles takes a right and looks over at Jackson, his eyes running down the other man’s body, “You’re pouty today, you must want it _bad_.”

There’s really only two ways they go at it, but both have this unusually common thing about them, besides for the fact that Stiles is the top. Stiles would’ve expected Jackson to be a closet case, sure, and he is, but he didn’t expect how needy the other man is.

Thinking back on it, it should’ve been obvious the first time, when Jackson kept telling Stiles to touch him, or **making** him do it, positioning his hands and whatnot, but Stiles didn’t really think anything of it. The other guy doesn’t like foreplay, and he hates all the slow sex intimacy and cuddling afterwards, but he **loves** when Stiles’s hands are on him.

“I’m only pouty today because of you,” Jackson points out and it’s so irritating how well Stiles can read him, it makes him feel exposed, “You don’t know how to shut up or when to keep your mouth closed all together.”

Huffing, he shakes his head and looks away to stare out of the passenger side window as he tries to ignore the way his dick’s hardening just from anticipation.

Things with Stiles feel entirely too much like Brokeback Mountain (he’s only seen it once, okay? And it was because Lydia insisted), minus all the intimacy, mushy feelings and copulating in a tent - he just wishes he knew how to quit Stiles. Because other than heated hook ups, he knows it’s not going anywhere and the longer things continue, the more he’s risking being outed to everyone he knows.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “If I don’t start it, you will, and you play dirty when you want sex.”

He doesn’t mind it, but he doesn’t particularly like it - Jackson may think he’s good at keeping this all under wraps, but he’s not. He’s been horrible at timing it since the start, being blatantly obvious in some cases, and the guy won’t even recognize his own mistakes, “Besides, you **like** it when my mouth is open.”

He turns onto the road leading to one of the many older, abandoned houses of Beacon Hills before parking on the side of the road and looking over the other man, “Get that cute little ass in the back.”

“I hate you,” Jackson mutters under his breath and clenches his jaw shut as he moves to do so, climbing in between the seats and flopping down against the back one.

The insane part is, is that part of him **does** actually hate Stiles, but he knows that most of the hate roots from the fact that Stiles can be out and proud without it really effecting his status around Beacon Hills. Jackson envies that, and he’s not used to envying anyone.

Stiles locks the front doors before following Jackson, taking off his flannel jacket as he pushes the other man down and he settles over him, leaning down and pressing their lips together.

Initially, kissing was a no-no, one of the many rules Jackson had put in place, but Stiles has slowly gotten him comfortable with it. It probably has to do with the whole ‘I’m not gay’ thing, which is a shame, considering it’s not an issue to anyone else.

Jackson doesn’t put up much of a fuss once Stiles pushes him down against the seat, because he’s too eager and entirely too worked up to go and ruin things by being a pain in the ass.

He’s almost ashamed of how badly he needs this sometimes, to just get lost in Stiles and to let him have control. Stiles is a quick study on all things Jackson though and he’s more or less had everything down to an art form since the first time they fucked, he knows what Jackson needs and that’s probably why he comes back for it time and time again.

Moaning needily, he arches against the seat a little and throws his arms around Stiles’s neck, legs spreading to accommodate the other boy’s hips.

Stiles smirks against Jackson’s mouth as his hands drop down, one rubbing against the front of his pants, the other pushing up under his shirt and running over the smooth skin to pinch at his nipples. He’d shake his head if his lips were free, Jackson is **so** predictable, like clockwork.

He loves how immediately submissive the guy is, it reminds him of how shocked he was the first time, expecting a fight for dominance, but Jackson practically turned onto his stomach and arched his ass into the air like the most willing bottom in the **world**.

He keeps this quick and short, turning Jackson over and yanking down his pants, pulling his silky boxers down over that baby smooth ass and Stiles leans down, seconds from pressing his mouth to the puckered entrance before he stops and raises his brows at how slick it appears. He reaches out and runs his thumb over it, chuckling as he realizes that Jackson’s already prepared himself; he was fucking **planning** this now.

Stiles experimentally presses a finger inside and has to bite his lip at how slick the walls are, “Okay, color me impressed.”

Jackson shudders and braces himself against the seat with his forearms, looking back over his shoulder at Stiles as he fights the groan threatening to come out, “I wasn’t trying to impress you,” He says and he hates how tremulous his voice is, “Come on, Stilinski. Get on with it.”

His nipples are so hard they’re aching and his dick is leaking like a spigot, but all he can focus on is how good Stiles’s ridiculously long finger feels inside of him.

“So needy,” Stiles pulls his finger back, pushing down his own pants and reaching into his back pocket and taking out the condom he put there before he got dressed in the locker rooms.

He rips it open carefully and rolls it onto his length, pushing back the foreskin before he does it and then he moves forward on his knees, grabbing onto Jackson’s hips and holding him in place before Stiles slides in. He lets out a shaky breath as he does it, his dull nails curling against Jackson’s soft skin, “Were you thinking about this when you fingered yourself? Did you think about how I feel inside of you?”

When Stiles pushes in, it’s like it shoves the moan right out of Jackson’s mouth and he can’t stop it, the loudness of it making his cheeks heat. Of course, the embarrassment doesn’t end there, either, because lo and behold, Stiles is talking and expecting him to answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” He teases and his voice is entirely too soft to come off as snarky, but he can’t help it, because he’s been waiting the better part of a week to feel Stiles inside of him again. It’s not like he’d answer honestly, anyways, because if he did, he’d never hear the end of it.

Jackson wets his lips and lets out a heavy breath, beginning to cant his hips back and forth in order to get things going.

“That’s Jackson language for ‘yes’,” Stiles says, smirking as he bucks into the other man’s eager movements, his hands running up to roll the hardened buds of Jackson’s nipples under his fingers, turning to bite along his back and pulling the skin between his teeth roughly.

“You’re so predictable, so eager,” He leans up to whisper in the other man’s ear, “You won’t say it, but I will - you **were** thinking about me. I know how much you hate that you think about me, but it ends up happening anyways.”

Stiles reaches one hand down to pump Jackson’s dick, hand moving over the skin the best he can. The first time he tried to, it was like the hardest thing in the entire fucking world, he’ll never understand how circumcised men do it, but it’s horrible - it’s taken him some practice, and watching **lots** of porn to get something down that’s kind of acceptable.

Jackson doesn’t say anything back, because he can’t. For all intents and purposes, Stiles is right and he **does** hate that he ends up thinking about him, but it’s difficult to not think about someone who’s so in tune with your body and what you like.

He fixes Stiles with a weak glare and practically slumps his top half down against the seat as soon as he feels the other boy’s hand around his length, body sensitive and responsive to Stiles’s every touch, “I hope I come all over your stupid seats.”

“I hope you do, too,” Stiles breathes as he settles more atop Jackson, fucking down into him and moving his other hand from the other man’s chest to run it over his body, up his left thigh, along the swell of his ass, kneading the flesh before sliding his fingers up Jackson’s spine.

He can't really say honestly why Jackson coming on his seats would be a bad thing. The guy has no clue about Scott, and though sex doesn’t linger long after they’ve fucked, seed probably would hold up for a good few days, no matter **what** Stiles sprayed to attempt to get rid of the scent. So he tries to make his point in another way.

“It’s not like Scott sits in my jeep and your jizz won't stain the seats, not at all," He says sarcastically, "I'm not gonna take the heat for that one. I mean, if he's not suspicious yet... Well, the sooner you get comfortable with this, the sooner you stop pretending to storm off like a pissy rich kid, just to be fucked by me.”

Jackson’s eyes widen and internally he panics a little, because if Scott McCall finds out about **any** of this, the rest of Beacon Hills will know in no time. It’s not that Scott has a big mouth, per se, but he’d probably tell everyone just to ruin Jackson’s life - he’s given the guy enough strife to expect that much.

He wants to argue that it’s about **more** than just getting comfortable with it, but he doesn’t want to open up to Stiles and spill all of his issues, because it’s bad enough he’s fucking the guy on the down low - the last thing they need is some stupid, pointless heart to heart.

“If I were out and comfortable about it, do you really think I’d still be fucking around with you?” He asks, eyes nearly rolling back into his head with each movement, and the way Stiles is constantly touching him all over causes his body to thrum with arousal.

Stiles slams into Jackson particularly roughly and chuckles, “I don’t think you’d be fucking around with me, I **know** you would.”

He presses his lips to the other man’s shoulder, “Wanna know why?” Stiles asks rhetorically, “Because you **could** be with anyone you wanted, and yet you’re here with me. Danny is gay, I can name like... Twenty-seven other students that are gay _men_ in particular, and yet you’re here with me."

"You like me, you like that I know you, and you like the fighting, you like that I might as well be the last person you’d let do this to you. And I’m pretty sure the reason why is because anything less isn’t really acceptable. You’d be **bored** if I were anything less. It’s okay to want that.”

“First of all,” Jackson groans and has to bite his lip for a moment to stifle the sounds spilling from him, “Danny is... Danny’s my best friend.”

It’s a little difficult to actually speak when Stiles is fucking him like this, each thrust mind numbing, “Second of all, you’re wrong. This... With you, it’s just convenient. If I were out, I wouldn’t even give you a second thought. Now, would you just-just shut up and get me off already?”

Stiles grins even wider and leans back, yanking Jackson onto his dick, stuffing him as he drops his head back and closes his eyes.

He gets the defense, but some times he wishes Jackson would open up **just** a little, “What we’re doing is anything **but** convenient,” And that’s the truth of it.

They’re forced to fit it in somewhere, some times they go far too long without it and it’s painfully obvious that Jackson gets impatient. If he was out, the only difference would be that sex wouldn’t be once a week, it’d probably be twice a day.

“Whatever,” Jackson grunts and clenches down around Stiles, panting as the thrusts jostle him against the seat.

Mindlessly, he reaches back with his left hand and grips Stiles’s thigh, urging the other boy to fuck into him harder as he tries to work his hips back to meet each movement. Stiles is right, sure, but he’s not going to give him the satisfaction of telling him so - the other boy is insufferable the way it is.

“You’re the most bottom bottom I think I’ve ever seen,” Stiles observes as he glances down to the hand on his leg, “And I’ve seen some pretty serious bottom porn.”

He shakes his head and takes his hand from Jackson’s dick, grabbing his hips and pulling him back as hard as he can, his own bucking forward and slamming into the other man. Jackson is tight around him, almost suffocating, and he groans at the feeling of those plush ass cheeks smacking loudly against his hips.

“Yeah, and you’re the most annoying top,” Jackson responds breathlessly and whimpers when Stiles starts slamming into him, “I swear to God you never shut up, just give it a rest.”

But in a way, he’s mildly okay with it - sometimes it even helps to get him off, because he enjoys the banter with Stiles more than he should. Removing his hand from Stiles’s thigh, Jackson grabs Stiles’s hand and pulls it back around his body, urging him to touch him again instead of asking for it.

“God you never stop bitching,” Stiles chuckles as he glances at the arm guiding his hand back and he presses soft kisses to Jackson’s skin as Stiles grips him once more, “Give it a rest.”

He speeds up a little, his own orgasm growing closer, but he doesn’t mention it. The hair of his happy trail sticks to Jackson’s skin, the sweat of their bodies making the smacking become so loud it’s almost obnoxious, “It’s not an insult, your ass is **made** for bottoming, it just looks _good_ around my dick.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jackson trembles and his mouth hangs open, fingers turning white because he’s gripping the seat so hard. It’s like a triple whammy and at moments like these, there’s no wonder Jackson can’t get enough of the guy; his lips, his firm grip and that sarcastic mouth break him down almost every time.

Bucking back and forth between Stiles’s hand and his cock, he practically starts sobbing out moans as his toes curl, body tensing as his orgasm slams into him suddenly.

Stiles catches the warm fluid in his palm, the walls clamping around his length as he continues to thrust causes him to lose it as well. It doesn’t help that Jackson makes those familiar little whine sounds and Stiles slows, sitting up and grabbing the tissues he keeps behind his seat before wiping his hand clean.

He pulls out quickly, not giving Jackson the time to start complaining before he’s taking off the condom, tying it up and adding it and the tissues to a bag in the back. They’ve literally fucked in here enough that he’s **that** prepared.

Jackson turns around and sits on the seat to pull his pants back up, chest heaving as he glances over at Stiles with an expression he hopes is something akin to appreciation.

The entire time they’ve been fucking around it’s always been on Jackson’s terms and Stiles is always okay with it, regardless of what he wants out of a hook up. Even if they bicker and Stiles gets on his nerves, it’s still a pretty selfless thing to do for someone; to give and not expect.

Jackson sighs then, because he’s always a little less defensive after sex and it’s annoying, because he’s not the mushy kind. After fixing his clothes, he climbs back up between the seats and gets situated, rolling the window down so it smells a little less like sex in the confines of the jeep.

Stiles pulls on his own pants after Jackson’s back in the front, but he leaves his flannel in the back, climbing into the driver’s seat and looking at the other man. He reaches out, grabbing Jackson’s jaw and pulling him in, kissing him heatedly one more time.

He moves away quickly and rolls down his own window before starting the jeep up once more, “I’ve heard that beds are easier on your knees,” He looks at Jackson and smirks, “Maybe some time, we should test that theory.”

Jackson doesn’t really have time to break the kiss, because it’s over just as quickly as it begins. But he **does** sneer at the other man a little, reaching up to wipe his lips even though he doesn’t want to, because he needs to keep up his frigid charade - the last thing he needs is for Stiles to think that it’s okay to act on intimate gestures. They’re not a couple and never will be, so it’s best they keep things as casual as possible.

“Car seats are just fine,” He argues weakly and turns his head to look out the window, thinking that fucking on a bed is just a stepping stone leading to _more_.

“Yeah, you won’t hear any complaints there, but I’d kill to fuck you in a bed,” Stiles says as he drives, turning back onto the main road, “Watching your hands grab the sheets, making the springs protest, or handcuffing you to the headboard and fucking you until your come soaks the pillows.”

He looks at Jackson suggestively, “Beds sound nice, I can do a _lot_ of things to that body, with a bed involved.”

Jackson’s mouth dries out at the thought, but he starts shaking his head and glances at Stiles, “No,” He says resolutely, brows raised.

“Beds are too... Personal, it’s not gonna happen. This...” He gestures between them vaguely, “Whatever this is, this arrangement, I like it the way it is - we don’t need to change it up now.”

“You think me sticking my dick in your ass isn’t personal?” Stiles asks skeptically, “I know gay guys aren’t typically about the feels, they just want the sex, but I **know** what you want, and that’s not it. Give it time, and you’ll come around, you’ll realize that there’s more to it.”

He stops at the red light and turns to Jackson, staring at him knowingly, “I’m not saying cheesy girly things like shopping and picking out matching suits. I’m talking about having someone that’s on your side. Someone that when you’ve had the worst fucking day of your life, you can go home and he’ll be there to fuck your brains out and make you numb for the next few hours, or days, if that’s what you want."

"That’s what beds are for. And you’re gonna want something like that, you already do. But, eh,” He shrugs, “Keep pretending, it’s cute, baby.”

Jackson swallows down the lump in his throat and stares back at Stiles, hating how dead on the guy is all of the time about what he wants.

It doesn’t matter, though, because a life like that isn’t something he’ll ever have, regardless of how badly he longs for it. Right now he has status and people actually envy him, he’ll lose everything if he comes out publicly and he’ll never be happy again - he’s seen how some people treat Danny, and almost **everyone** likes Danny.

“I really wish you’d cut it out with the pet names,” Jackson rolls his eyes and looks away finally, “I’m not a baby, I’m not _your_ baby and we’re not a couple. It’s gross.”

“I really wish you’d cut it out with that shitty tough exterior and the constant need to make yourself **miserable** all of the time. It’s stupid, it’s a waste of energy, and you’d be happier if you just did it. But we can’t all have what we want,” Stiles pushes on the gas and doesn’t look back at Jackson, as much as he wants to.

“As much as I hate your guts, I **am** on your side, and you constantly feel like you have to put up this face, like it’ll kill you if you let it go for two seconds and actually feel what you’re feeling. The sex would be like fifty times better, you’d come faster, and you know what? It’d happen a _lot_ more often."

"Imagine having this every single day.”

Jackson grits his teeth together and finally snaps again, “Just stop with your fucking judgmental, psychoanalytic bullshit. You don’t get to spew crap like this to me when you’re already out, okay? It’s not like you have anything to lose, people don’t care that you like dick, because you’re a nobody.”

It’s harsh, but it’s also kind of the truth.

“I wouldn’t be happier, because I wouldn’t have anything. My family and friends? They’d probably disown me, with the exception of Danny. I’d lose rank and I’d probably lose a promising future - being out and proud isn’t worth losing everything I care about, Stiles. So stop going all Dr. Phil on me.”

Stiles nods in understanding, “Right,” He says slowly.

He’s not fond of the outburst, but he doesn’t push, it might be surprising but some times he can actually keep his mouth shut. Stiles just wishes things were different between them, that Jackson was more comfortable with it. You can’t really have **real** friends if you’re afraid of them rejecting you for something that is a part of being yourself.

“Right?” Jackson asks incredulously and snorts as he begins shaking his head, “You tell me to actually feel what I’m feeling and you come back with ‘right’. You’re a real piece of work, Stilinski. Just get me back to my fucking vehicle so I can go home.”

It’s the most he’s opened up to anyone, including Danny. And while some of it wasn’t particularly nice (mainly him calling Stiles a nobody), he still feels embarrassed that he even thought he could actually talk to Stiles.

“I’m not the one pretending to be something I’m not, just to make people like me,” Stiles responds, glancing at Jackson now.

“Not everyone is going to like you, you should accept that, and stop repressing yourself just to appease as many people possible. I’m not trying to lecture you, but dude... You have to let something go, at some point. You’re making yourself miserable, and you’re kind of a serious douchebag, because of it.”

Stiles is right, once again, but Jackson has gotten so used to his life the way it is, he honestly wouldn’t even know where to begin. He’s not sure if he could handle people disliking him or not wanting to be near him in general over something like sexual preference.

Jackson doesn’t respond to anything the other boy says, mainly because he doesn’t know what he could possibly say and partially because he’s actually tired of arguing with Stiles for once, “Just get me back to my car,” He says quietly and looks away from Stiles.

“Okay, baby,” Stiles says as he turns into the empty school parking lot, “But really, if you’re not comfortable with outing yourself, I’m not gonna be the one to do it. It’s between you and me. You may think I’m like... The most worthless piece of shit, or whatever, and that I don’t understand things like ‘being afraid to bare yourself to people’, but I do. I hold a lot back, too. Nobody or not, everyone has something they hide from other people.”

He parks and turns to look at Jackson, actually forcing himself not to look over the other man’s body, “It’s terrifying to think of letting that side of myself out, that’s why I’m _Stiles_.”

Jackson looks at Stiles and listens to the other boy, blinking slowly as he takes it all in and he kind of wants to apologize, to tell Stiles he didn’t mean what he said about him.

He knows a lot of what comes out of his mouth only comes out because he’s hurting in one way or another, and it’s kind of frightening to think of what kind of person he’d be if he was out and proud; and _happy_. Keeping people at an arms length emotionally has become a talent of his over the years, and it’s almost become instinctual - he does it without even trying at this point, just because it’s _easier_ this way.

“Maybe the day you let that side of yourself out, I’ll actually come out,” He says, because he knows it’ll never happen.

Jackson opens the door and climbs out, then goes around to the back of the jeep to pull his bag out, slamming the hatch shut before moving to his car. The sooner he puts distance between them, the better, because Stiles seems kind of intent on breaking his walls down and Jackson isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to keep them up.


	2. Chapter 2

As good as the sex was, Stiles finally decides that he needs to move on from Jackson and invest in a healthier relationship. Harley’s been one of his closest friends for years, though they’ve grown a little distant since Scott got bit, but he knows she’s been eying him for a while now. It’ll be nice just to be involved with someone that is comfortable to actually **be** with him.

Stiles smiles and sips on his drink as he watches her, reaching across as stealthily as possible to grab one of her fries, “Scott and Allison are going on a date this Saturday, do you... You know, wanna double?” _Smooth_.

Harley grins wide and slaps Stiles’s hand, then takes her fry back and pops it into her mouth, eyes widening because she’s ninety percent sure he just asked her out.

Choking on her fry a little, she coughs and covers her mouth, then clears her throat before looking at him, “W-With you?” She asks, feeling her cheeks heat a little, “Double date with-uh,” Harley nods numbly, “Sure. I mean, yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Cool,” Stiles clears his throat and chuckles nervously, “Good, I mean, yeah. So dress casual, nothing special, and I’ll pick you up around six?” He’s never really had the nerve to ask someone out, considering how long he’d been hooked on Lydia, but Jackson kind of fixed that pretty well.

Harley’s about to nod, but she stops herself and narrows her eyebrows at Stiles, crossing her arms as she smiles at him, “Why do you have to pick me up? Why can’t I pick you up?... I want to, then you can just tell me where to go.” He asked her out, of course, but she doesn’t want to kick off a possible relationship by bending to the will of stereotypical gender roles.

Stiles raises his brows in surprise, “Oh okay, totally. We can totally do that.”

He actually seriously likes that idea, and he and Harley have been close friends before, so he knows that she knows where he lives, “You can pick me up, sure, and we’ll go out together.”

Harley relaxes a little and uncrosses her arms as she beams at Stiles, “Okay then,” She says, looking down at her food as she struggles to suppress her smile. She’s had a thing for Stiles for a while now and while she isn’t sure why he’s picking now to ask her out, she also isn’t going to question it.

Jackson tries to be subtle about watching Stiles and the girl sitting across from him, but he isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to be able to mask his growing irritation.

It’s unwarranted, he’s not so dense to think that he’s entitled to feel this way. He was the one that told Stiles that they weren’t a couple, he was rude to the other guy, but he hadn’t expected something like this to happen so soon afterwards. He can’t hear them, but if he had to guess by their body language, he’d say they’re definitely flirting.

“You know, if you wanna be the guy in this uh... This thing, I’m totally cool with that, too,” Stiles kids, sipping his drink, “You can hold doors open for me, I can make you sandwiches, the whole deal. I can try to have the babies, I’ve always wanted to go through the whole morning sickness thing.”

Harley thinks he’s jumping the gun just a little bit, but the thought of all of that is endearing, “Yeah? Only if you agree to wear a frilly little apron while you make my sandwiches,” She jokes, looking up at him through her lashes as she reaches for her chocolate milk.

Jackson rolls his eyes, because that should be **him** , he should be the one sitting over there flirting shamelessly with Stiles, but it’s some _girl_ instead. It could be him if only he had the nerve to be more open about who he is and what he wants, as opposed to hiding behind a rude, tough guy exterior. And it’s disheartening, because he doesn’t know if he can be any different.

“A pink one with polka dots?” Stiles asks as he grins and makes a very feminine pose, “I look really good in pink.”

He kind of feels guilty for leaving Jackson behind, and he side glances to the other man nervously, his eyes widening as he realizes that Jackson’s looking at him. He turns quickly and smiles back at Harley again.

He didn’t really say anything when he cut things off, just stopped seeing Jackson, and stopped arguing as much as possible. There’s still that kind of longing feeling inside, to start something between them in order to see if it goes anywhere, but he has to remind himself that it won’t. It’s pretty much the same as things were with Lydia, grasping for straws.

Jackson ignores Lydia yapping in his ear and stands up, he needs to get out of here because he can’t watch it anymore. And if he stays around and **does** watch, he’s only going to end up making a fool of himself and he doesn’t want to give Stiles the satisfaction.

He walks by their table and looks between the two of them, “Why don’t you two get a fucking room or something, there **are** people trying to eat in here, you know.” He doesn’t wait for either of them to respond before dumping his tray, ready to get as far away from the cafeteria as possible.

Harley gapes after Jackson and then looks at Stiles, brows knotted together in confusion, “I know Jackson’s an asshole, but what was that about?” The guy doesn’t normally verbally attack someone unless he’s provoked, and she’s never really done anything to him.

Stiles feels his skin crawl at the comment and he frowns, looking at Jackson and staring longingly after. He kind of wants to follow, to talk to him and ask if he’s okay, but he knows Jackson will just bite his head off if he does. It’s best to just cut this off as cleanly as possible, and going after Jackson won’t help either of them, “Uh, well he kinda is like-”

Stiles shrugs and looks back at Harley, “We’re practically rivals and we’re on the same Lacrosse team, he’s never really liked me. I think it’s the hair.”

“Well, he’s stupid if that’s the case,” Harley says, finishing off her chocolate milk before propping her chin on her hand, “Because I think your buzz cut looks nice, maybe he’s just jealous because he spends an hour every morning trying to perfect his and he still ends up looking like a douchebag.”

“I don’t know about that,” Stiles says slowly, feeling like he has to defend Jackson, “I don’t really mind it, I kinda just ignore it. I mean, he’s clearly got issues he needs to work out, maybe making others feel like shit comforts him.”

He shrugs again and winks at Harley, “I guess you and I just have such good chemistry that he feels the need to test it.”

Harley nods thoughtfully and smiles, “And it’s about time you realized it, too,” She says teasingly. Stiles is an exceptionally smart guy, he had to have known how long she’s been holding a flame for him. It’s just a shame it took him so long to act on it.

Stiles reaches out and tries to grab another fry, “Yeah, well, I’m not the sharpest tool in the crayon box, if you know what I mean.” He doesn’t like that just **barely** flirting with her though has resulted in Jackson lashing out, which makes lacrosse sound seriously promising.

* * *

Jackson keeps his distance from Stiles the best he can, which isn’t really saying a whole lot, because they go to the same school together and play on the same Lacrosse team - but he does the best he can.

Seeing Stiles with the girl doesn’t do anything but make him realize what he already knows about himself; he’s not good enough and he never will be, regardless if he comes out and accepts who he is or not. It’s childish and he’s aware of it, but acting out in fits of violence and anger is the only way he knows to channel all the hurt he feels.

So the first opportunity he gets to t-bone Stiles at Lacrosse practice, he takes it, and knocks the other man off of his feet he tackles him so hard.

Stiles anticipated violence, fortunately, so he isn’t surprised when Jackson takes out his frustrations on him. He pushes Jackson back, sighing and standing as he winces and glares at the other man, “Could you act a little mature and not be so predictable?” It’s kind of disappointing that Stiles was expecting it, and it happened, just a little.

“Well, you could, oh, I don’t know, _maybe warn me next time you plan on just ditching our arrangement_?!” Jackson growls angrily and he’s thankful McCall skipped practice, otherwise he’d probably have some explaining to do.

Stiles raises his brows, “We had an arrangement? It was just sex, Jackson, and as far as you liked to make it out to be, it wasn’t really important sex. It was disposable, and convenient, and I’m pretty much no one to you, so why should I stick around and be your little... Whatever, thing, _arrangement_?”

He puts his hands up and shrugs as he backs away, “What were you expecting?”

Jackson’s always been good at everything he’s ever done, so the fact that Stiles comes across as seemingly unimpressed with the quality of their sex, it’s like a punch to the gut and he feels humiliated.

All of this is his fault though, and it’s not something he can deny to himself, he’d **told** Stiles it was convenient and called the other guy a nobody, so he’s got nobody to blame but himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen after all of that, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Being a jackass has always been his persona, but now it’s pushing away people he’d rather keep close and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Part of him wants to tell Stiles it’s because he doesn’t have anyone else, doesn’t have anyone else to turn to for sex, but in all actuality that’ll just make it seem like he’s using the other guy for easy sex.

“We may hate each other, but it was still good sex,” Jackson tries to argue, but he knows he’s falling short, “The kind that warrants some kind of heads up, some indication that it’ll be stopping. You didn’t say **anything** to me.”

Stiles looks around at the other team mates as they start getting close. He’s not one to keep things private, he’s normally loud and open, but he respects Jackson’s wishes to keep things quiet.

Stiles moves in a little closer, lowering his voice as he stares at Jackson, “When you try so hard to make someone feel like they’re nothing, maybe that’s what you should expect - **nothing**.”

He smiles sadly and takes off his helmet, “I tried. I can even get the fitty, asshole, douchey attitude. I even respect it, it made things interesting. But I’m not on your side if you’re not on mine.” He turns around and walks away, keeping his helmet off and running his hand through his buzzed hair as he leaves the field.

* * *

Scott stares at the wall passed Stiles’s shoulder, a little zoned out as he listens to the cacophony of chatter filling the cafeteria and he’s having a difficult time believing everything he’s hearing right now. But it must hold some truth, especially if more than just one group of people is discussing it - then again, it could just be a rumor. Either way, it’s all anyone is talking about this morning, apparently.

“People are saying some pretty weird things about Jackson,” He says distractedly, and blinks rapidly a few times before looking at Stiles.

Stiles turns from Harley, raising his brows at his best friend and frowning, his stomach wrenching a little at the mention of the other man. Things have been stiff and quiet between him and Jackson, but he **is** still concerned about him, “Uh, weird? Like what? Is it that rumor about the third nipple thing again? Because I’ve heard that one already.”

“No, nothing really about a third nipple,” Scott shakes his head and furrows his brows as he struggles with his chocolate milk, werewolf strength and he can’t get a stupid cardboard container open, “Everyone is saying he’s gay, that he hooked up with someone else on the swim team and I guess the guy ran his mouth afterwards. I mean, I don’t really see the problem, even if he is gay, ya know? I just think it’s a little... Weird. It’s **Jackson**... And he’s- Well, he’s with Lydia for one thing. It’s probably just a rumor.”

“Oh, yeah, weird,” Stiles says slowly as he reaches over to help Scott, and then he stands up and leaves his tray, picking up his backpack and moving from the table, “Hey, so, my stomach’s doing something weird, you might not wanna listen in, if you know what I mean.”

It’s not really a lie at all, it **is** doing something weird, but Stiles knows it’s nerves, he just wants to insinuate that Scott’s hearing not follow him as he bolts from the lunchroom.

In the mornings, Jackson is normally pretty late to school, so maybe he hasn’t been around this stuff just yet. Stiles darts off to the parking lot, directly to Jackson’s car. He stands at the driver’s side, waiting for the other man to climb out as his heart races violently.

Jackson takes the rejection from Stiles the best he knows how and ends up hooking up with one of the other swimmers on the swim team. It’s a stupid decision and he knows it before things even get started, but he goes through with it anyways, hoping that it’ll ebb some of the need festering just under his surface. It’s a nightmare, to put it shortly. Either that, or things with Stiles just set the bar so high that no one else is ever really going to come close.

And the last thing he wants to see bright and early on a Monday morning is Stiles of all people standing just outside his car door waiting on him to get out. But there he is, looking all anxious and constipated.

Jackson tries to tamp down his irritation and climbs out of the car, “What do you want, Stilinski?” He asks, and he’s kind of impressed with how civil he sounds aside from the harshness of the question itself.

“Uh,” Stiles starts dumbly, glancing around and reaching out to grab the shoulder of the other man’s jacket.

He’s shaking already, he feels like he’s going to throw up or something and he looks guiltily at Jackson. Stiles can’t help feeling like this is kind of his fault, that cutting off things with the other man led Jackson to do something reckless and now he’s been outed to the entire school.

It’s the worse thing that can happen to someone, having their personal life spread about without their permission, and he has to be the one to break this to Jackson.

“So... I... Heard that you, uh... That you slept with a guy on the swim team,” He says breathlessly as he looks around, “I know this is the last thing you wanna hear, like ever - especially on a Monday morning, especially from me, but it’s... It’s _going around_.”

Jackson looks down to where Stiles put his hand on his shoulder and he rolls the joint, releasing himself from the other guy’s grip as he meets him with a disbelieving stare.

“I’m just gonna assume you followed me or something and that’s the only reason you know that,” He says dryly, fixing the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he moves passed Stiles to head into the school, “I don’t believe you, so leave me alone.”

Stiles reaches out and grabs Jackson’s shoulder, turning him a little and staring seriously into his eyes, “I’m not kidding. You know me, you know I care about you to some capacity, at least. It’s **everywhere** , everyone knows that you’re gay. I’m not kidding.”

Jackson doesn’t pull away as subtly this time and opts for jerking his shoulder away from Stiles rudely, eyebrows narrowing at the other guy, “You don’t care about me to **any** capacity, so don’t fucking say you do. You’re a liar.”

He doesn’t believe Stiles for one second, there’s no way in Hell it could’ve gotten around that quick. Shaking his head at the other man, he backs away and heads into the school, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking it as he makes his way to the cafeteria for a late breakfast.

Stiles watches after Jackson and swallows nervously. He tried, he tried as hard as he could, he made it clear to Jackson that he was being a hundred percent serious. If the guy wants to live in his personal little happy bubble for the next two minutes, Stiles won’t stop him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He mutters, lowering his head as he follows after Jackson.

Jackson ignores Stiles and pockets his phone once he’s finally in the cafeteria, routinely going through the line to get his food, but he furrows his brows a little once he gets to his usual table, because he’s pretty sure two of the guys scooted closer together just so he couldn’t sit down.

“Move,” He says, knowing they all pretty much listen to him, but they don’t budge.

One of the guys turns back and raises his brows at Jackson expectantly, “Or what?” He stands up then and turns to look at the smaller man, “You can’t push us around like you think you’re everything, faggot.”

Stiles stands at the lunchroom door, watching as the larger man shoves Jackson’s tray out of his hand. He was expecting them to be a **little** mean, but bringing out the ‘f’ word feels seriously **wrong**. He’s tempted to step in and say something, but Jackson’s already been nasty to him once today, maybe the guy needs to experience some of the things he’s done, himself.

Jackson swallows nervously and he wishes that he would’ve listened to Stiles, because now the entire cafeteria is looking at him and he’s got oatmeal all over his brand new shoes.

“Wow,” He says dryly and grits his teeth as he looks up at his former friend, “I’m willing to bet money on the fact that you wouldn’t be tossing that word around so freely if Danny were in here right now, now would you?... No, I don’t think so.”

He’s seething and his chest is heaving, he feels like something was stolen from him and he can’t get it back - it’s his dignity, he realizes belatedly, “And for your information, I didn’t push you around because I thought I was better...” He grins sharply then, but it feels all wrong on his face, like he’s trying to keep from crying.

“It’s because I **know** I’m better than you,” He says, then looks around at everyone staring before stalking back out, brushing passed Stiles in a hurry.

Stiles moves to the tray and picks up the milk and the bag of sliced apples before looking at the asshole that shoved it all over. He shrugs and smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, but he’s... Actually right.”

He walks after Jackson then, catching up to him as fast as he can and running in front of him, putting his hands up and staring at Jackson sadly, “Hey, I... I’m sorry,” He says, feeling the lump form in his throat, “That guy was an ass.”

Jackson stops abruptly and looks at Stiles, lips pulled into a firm line, “I’m an ass,” He says, then shrugs, “That...” He gestures back towards the cafeteria, “Didn’t bother me, he didn’t bother me.”

He’s lying and he’s pretty sure a blind man could tell, because his face is red from embarrassment and there are unshed tears in his eyes, “So save your pity party for someone else, okay?” He pushes passed Stiles then and heads back outside to his car, dropping his book bag from his shoulder and he just... He loses it, and he throws the bag and all of the books in it at his car and busts out the driver's side window as he lets out a frustrated growl.

Stiles looks down at the apples and the milk in his hands, and then he moves to the nearby trash can and throws them away.

He’s tried to be understanding and sympathetic, but the guy just won’t stop pushing him away. He has a girlfriend, he should probably be worrying about her instead of some asshole closet case that just got outed. It hurts to think of it like that, but that’s the truth, he’s dealt with a lot of bullshit from Jackson.

Stiles walks back into the lunch room and sits down beside Harley and Scott, “So, how about those Stormtroopers?”

* * *

When Finstock blows the whistle, Jackson grabs his gear and lugs it all to the bleachers, and that’s where he sits until he’s sure almost the whole team is probably done in the locker room by now.

It’s just easier this way, he doesn’t have to listen to the snickers and whispers pointed in his direction. The only one who’s been even mildly supportive through all of this is Danny, but he can’t use the guy as a back brace all of the time, so he just waits it out and doesn’t go in for at least half an hour.

But, just his luck, Stiles is still in there and when he spots the other guy, he has to look away, because Stiles is a reminder of everything good in his life that he’ll never be able to have.

He grabs a towel and heads to the showers, exhaust fan whirring and making it difficult for him to think as he begins stripping down, draping his shirt over the stall divider. It hits him like a sack of bricks to his stomach, all at once and leaves him a little breathless as he realizes that the reason his life is a living hell right now is because of Stiles.

Jackson clenches his fists and stalks back out to the lockers, nostrils flaring angrily, “This is all your fault,” He says in an attempt to get Stiles’s attention, “You-You did this to me, it’s **your** fault!”

Stiles finishes tying his shoes and looks over Jackson for a moment before frowning in confusion, “Uh, I did? It is?”

He doesn’t really understand how Jackson got to the same conclusion he did, but it bothers him that they kind of agree on this. He’s not sure if he can just act like he didn’t ruin things for Jackson, it **is** technically his fault, but it’s unnerving how sure the other man is.

“Yeah, it is,” Jackson nods surely and he stands still, like his feet are cemented to the floor as he stares Stiles down, “We had something good. It was dysfunctional, but it worked a-and I know I’ve been an ass to you, but I-I fucking trusted you,” He admits through a clenched jaw, “And now all of this, the reason my parents can’t even look me in the face, is because of you.”

Stiles wrings his hands by his sides and wets his lips as he listens and nods, “I dunno what you want me to say, Jackson. I’m sorry? Yeah, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place. That was my mistake. But I can’t undo it. So what do you wanna do? You wanna hit me?” He shrugs, motioning generally to himself, “Go ahead.”

Jackson’s brows furrow and he looks at Stiles in confusion, hands unclenching and straightening at his sides, “What the fuck is that supposed to even mean, Stilinski?” He asks, but his tone isn’t venomous, mainly he just sounds tired.

“I’m mad at you and sometimes I even convince myself that I hate you, but I don’t wanna hit you - not hard enough to actually inflict damage, anyways. I mean, what good is it gonna do, huh? It’s not like hitting you will instantaneously make everyone forget I’m gay, it’s not gonna fix things between us. There’s no point in it,” He says, body shaking a little as he fights the way his eyes sting.

“My life is already ruined and hitting you isn’t gonna change anything. I just-I hate that I actually trusted your dumb ass, I wish I wouldn’t have, because now I’m left with nothing and you’re-you don’t even care, you get to hang out with your friends and your **girlfriend** like you’ve got no worries in the world.”

“I **am** worried, you fucking asshole,” Stiles responds, feeling his whole body ache uncomfortably as he resists the urge to try and comfort Jackson, “I didn’t want this to happen, incase you’ve forgotten, I warned you about it when the dick you fucked outed you. **That** , by the way, wasn’t my fault."

"You may not know this about me, but my own dad actually doesn’t know I’m bisexual. I can tell you now that he wouldn’t believe it if he knew, if I even tried to tell him. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and it’s shit, but you also treated me like shit, over and over, and over, and over again. Even when I finally thought you wouldn’t. You still treated me like shit, and that’s on you. I do care, I care a lot, but... You don’t care that I care, so the joke’s on you.”

“I’m sorry! I was working on it, okay?” Jackson shouts and he’s back in his same old defensive mode, because opening up like this makes him feel weak.

“I can’t just flip a fucking switch over night and suddenly be this nice, open and caring guy that you need me to be - I’m **never** going to be what you need me to be... But I was trying, I wanted to try for fuck’s sake, but then you just-You went and-Now you’re with _her_ ,” He says bitterly, face heating because he knows he’s about to cry, and it’s not something he wants Stiles to see, “I fucking hate you for making me feel this way.”

Stiles’s eyes widen and he blinks in surprise, his mouth drying out as he stares at Jackson, “I... I’m sorry. I-I don’t-I **didn’t** need you to be nice, open and caring, I just... I needed you to understand that when you were with me you could at least be honest and not fucking lie to my face all the time. You didn’t have to treat me like complete shit when we were **alone** and there was no one to lie around. I wasn’t asking you to make a complete one-eighty, Jackson.”

“I was trying,” Jackson repeats again and when he blinks, the tears fall, but he doesn’t waste any time wiping them away, “I don’t-I don’t ever open up to anyone, I don’t know how to-” - _not hide behind my securities and mask my unease with rude comments and snarky remarks_.

He closes his mouth then and shakes his head furtively, because it’s kind of a lost cause. No one is ever going to actually like him for who he is, much less Stiles, and his life probably couldn’t get much worse, so he just gives up - it’s not worth the trouble, **he’s** not worth the trouble.

Jackson turns away without saying anything else and walks back into the shower room to finish stripping, eager to shower so he can get out of here.

Stiles follows after Jackson, watching him for a moment before turning away when the other man undresses completely, “I-listen, Jackson, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t really know what to say or how to say it, he doesn’t really know how to react either. He fucked up - royally.

He should’ve known better, instead of giving up on Jackson like other people have, it makes him feel like rot, “You opened up to me and I’ve been rude, I’m sorry.”

Jackson doesn’t bother looking in Stiles’s direction as he steps under the spray of water, “We’re all works in progress,” He says softly and it feels a little weird to be so passive, but getting defensive and being an ass like he normally does isn’t going to solve anything right now.

“I know, but I should’ve understood. I even **knew** and I still was a dick,” Stiles wets his lips as he listens to the water and scratches his arm before he clears his throat. He’s not sure what else to say, so he leaves, walking back into the locker room. He opens his locker back up and takes out his jacket, pulling it on and grabbing his bag from where he’d left it.

Jackson doesn’t say anything and when he hears Stiles leave, he dips his head under the water and wills it to drown out everything else; the stupid thoughts pounding in his head, the longing he still feels for Stiles and the way his chest physically hurts, because he knows things are so far beyond repair between them that he’ll never get the chance to see if he can be someone deserving of love.

Stiles walks out of the locker room and down the hallways, finally leaving the school and stepping across the parking lot towards his jeep and he stops when he meets **Scott’s** eyes, the large, brown eyes staring at him in shock and he frowns, “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Scott says slowly, still trying to take in everything he’s overheard, “So, Jackson, huh?” He asks innocently, unsure if it’s a sensitive topic with Stiles or not. It’s just kind of bizarre to him that his best friend has been fucking the boyfriend of the chick he’s been obsessing over since kindergarten.

“Jackson, yeah,” Stiles responds just as slowly, his heart racing as he moves to Scott’s side and leans against his jeep, “You’ve been out here? Why didn’t you leave? How much did you hear?”

“I was gonna catch a ride instead of taking my bike,” Scott tells him and buries his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to glance at his friend, “And I’m pretty sure I caught all of it... You know you could’ve told me, right? I mean, about him. I wouldn’t have judged.”

Stiles nods slowly, “I didn’t think you’d judge. Honest, dude, I know you well enough. But Jackson was worried about **anyone** knowing, especially you. He made a point about me not letting you know, no matter how badly I wanted to tell you. He’s... Really insecure, and seriously sensitive, I didn’t wanna push him into anything like that.”

Scott nods as well and sighs, mind still reeling over all of this, “Well, I’m kinda glad I know now, definitely explains a lot. Like why you two were always fighting and then storming off at practice, one not too long after the other.”

He’s silent for a beat as he recalls everything he heard them say to one another, “He’s a jackass, man, but I think he’s harboring some pretty heavy feelings for you - not that he’d ever admit to it. Maybe he’s just scared?”

“Are you kidding? He’s terrified,” Stiles sighs as well and puts his hands in his pockets. It’s bad when even Scott can see something like that, it makes Stiles feel worse for doing what he did, “I knew better. I knew he wouldn’t admit things, I was... I mean, I guess I saw how serious it was for him, I just... Some times the guy can be a **serious** dick. I fucked up, end of story.”

“Nah,” Scott shakes his head and shoulder bumps Stiles, “You were both pretty stupid, but that doesn’t mean things can’t be fixed... That is, if you want to fix it.” And that’s probably just the hopeless romantic in him talking, but he can’t help it - he wants to see his friend happy.

Stiles looks down to the ground and narrows his brows, “Loaded question, dude.”

He’s thought of it before, but now? Jackson blames him for what happened, and he blames himself as well, there’s bound to be some lasting resentment there, bitter feelings, no matter **what** Jackson feels for him. It could just be a complete lost cause, “I don’t have an answer.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, Whittemore,” Ross starts as he rounds the shelves, following the other man and leaning against them to stop Jackson from grabbing the book he’s aiming for, “A few of the boys on the team were saying that they heard about you... You know, sleeping with other guys and shit, I can’t help being curious. It’s our locker room, too, but I don’t feel too comfortable knowing you’re in there, **if** this rumor happens to be true.”

Jackson glares at Ross and snorts, suppresses a laugh the best he can, “Oh no, it’s definitely true,” He says, and he’s amazed at how good it feels to say it, to own up to it, “But the fact that you actually think I’d attempt anything with **you**... That’s funny.”

Ross narrows his brows, “You know, we put up with Danny because he’s a good guy. Everyone likes Danny.”

He grabs Jackson’s neck and pushes him back to the shelf against the wall, “But not too many of us actually can **stand** you.” He leans in, looking into Jackson’s eyes as his voice lowers, “Nothing makes me sicker than knowing there’s a prissy little faggot like you on our Lacrosse team, thinking you’re something special just because your daddy makes a lot of money.”

“Hey!” Stiles says from the end of the shelves, raising his brows at the two, “My dad doesn’t make much, but... He’s sheriff, and his son just witnessed both discrimination **and** harassment. So do you wanna be the one to make the call to him, or do you want me to do it? I’ve got him on speed dial,” Stiles motions to his phone and smiles.

Jackson cranes his neck to the side and looks at Stiles suddenly, then looks back to Ross and shoves him away, hand reaching up to touch his neck, “And if the sheriff gets involved, you know I’ll have the best lawyers, right? You won’t even stand a chance.” He appreciates the sentiment of Stiles speaking up, but he kind of wishes he hadn’t, because he doesn’t need anyone else fighting his battles for him.

Ross stands back and looks at Stiles, then back to Jackson, “Even **they** won’t be fast enough to stop me from breaking that pretty little face of yours,” He says, pushing the other man against the wall again before walking towards Stiles, “And **you’re** all talk.”

Stiles opens his mouth to retort when Ross pushes him so roughly that he actually falls back and lands hard on his ass on the ground.

Jackson can handle being picked on for what it’s worth, he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that not everyone is going to agree with who he is and what he likes, and that’s... **Fine**. But when Ross shoves Stiles down, it pisses him off infinitely, because all Stiles was doing was trying to prevent Jackson from getting the pulp beaten out of him.

Jackson taps on Ross’s shoulder and the second he sees the guy turning, he throws his right fist out and punches him in the face.

Stiles gasps when he sees Jackson hit Ross, “Jackson,” He starts to complain and then Ross turns and hits Jackson back, grabbing his jacket and slamming him into the bookshelves.

He stands back up, “Jesus Christ, what is **wrong** with you?” He asks, moving to try and get Ross off of Jackson. He can’t, he’s not really-this isn’t his thing, so he settles for dialing his dad on the phone and holding it to Ross’s ear as the sheriff picks up.

Stiles stares at him seriously, whispering in a low voice, “Let him go.”

Ross stares back at Stiles and pales as he hears the man on the other side of the phone asking: ‘Stiles, I know it’s you’. He backs up, letting Jackson go and storming off finally.

Jackson slumps against the bookcase when Ross takes off and reaches up to wipe the blood from his bottom lip, wincing at the slight twinge of pain - he’s had worse. Either way, he’s still mildly appreciative that Stiles managed to get Ross to back down.

He looks at Stiles’s phone, then meets the other boy’s eyes, “Thank you,” He mouths quietly.

Stiles smiles and puts the phone to his ear, “Uh, dad?” He waits until his dad responds almost furiously, “No, no, just a butt dial, I guess.” He hangs up and tucks his phone in his back pocket, reaching up mindlessly to touch Jackson’s mouth, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jackson confirms and he knows he should back away, or at least swat Stiles’s hand away from his mouth, but he doesn’t, “Are you okay?” He asks then, brows raised, “That was a pretty stupid thing to do. You didn’t need to get involved.”

“He was gonna hurt your pretty face,” Stiles shrugs, looking up into Jackson’s eyes, “They don’t like me either, you know. I mean, you don’t really see it, but they get nasty to me too. ‘Pick a side’, ‘stop covering up, we all know you’re queer’, ‘bisexual is just an excuse to pretend like you’re one of the guys’. It never gets old, but I’m here, I gotta watch your back. No one really watched mine, so I know how it is.

"And I care about you, so even if I didn’t know what it was like, I’d have to get involved when I hear you pridefully admitting you’re gay, and then being bullied because of the sassiest comment ever.”

“You heard that, huh?” Jackson asks and he hates the hopeful way his stomach twists when Stiles says he cares about him, because no one does, really - and he doesn’t understand why that’d change now.

“He had it coming,” He shrugs, “I **do** have standards and they’re set pretty high,” It feels awkward to leave it there, he’s not used to just... _Talking_ to Stiles, “But you still shouldn’t have gotten involved, he could’ve hurt you.”

Stiles shrugs again and moves away, “Yeah, he could’ve, but he also could’ve hurt you. I’d rather call my dad to complain about harassment than to complain about a hate crime, wouldn’t you?” He smiles sheepishly, “The guy’s a jerk, but he wasn’t wrong, there’s not much lawyers could do to stop him from beating the shit out of you. But I could, so I did.”

Jackson’s eyes drop down to Stiles’s smile, and by default, Stiles’s lips, “Well, like I said,” He looks away, because now he’s remembering the way that mouth felt against his skin, “ _Thanks_.”

He moves back to the shelf and reaches up to grab the book he’d been after before Ross got in his way, tucking it protectively under his arm.

“Hey,” Stiles starts, following Jackson and reaching out to touch his arm, “About what happened in the showers, what you said. Look, I don’t know how far that shit goes, and I don’t know exactly how you feel about me, but... If it’s worth anything, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"I should’ve been more patient, but you know better than I do that I waited **years** for Lydia to look at me, and she never did. I didn’t want that to happen again.” Granted, he never fucked Lydia, “I know I hurt you, but I’d never do that intentionally, no matter how much you puff out your chest and try to act like it’s fine, like you don’t care, I know better.”

Jackson lets out a heavy breath and he wets his lips, because he’s really new at this whole sharing and caring thing and part of him is afraid he’s going to blow it, again. It’s imbedded in him to get defensive in order to keep from getting hurt, but he stares at the bookshelf for a moment until it subsides a little - he really doesn’t want to start an argument with Stiles.

“Okay,” He says shakily, finally meeting Stiles’s eyes warily, “You don’t want me to act like it’s fine, then it’s not. People give up on me, it’s what they do, and it’s not something I ever expect to change, Stiles.”

He shrugs and looks down at his feet like they’re suddenly more interesting or something, “Whether I have _feelings_ for you or not is kind of moot at this point, you know? I’ve apologized to you and you’ve apologized to me, we can leave it at that.”

Stiles reaches out, touching Jackson’s chin and lifting it to look into his eyes, “I get the act, okay? I’m not asking you to stop acting like a complete asshole. I don’t want you to change.”

He leans in, his heart racing as he touches Jackson's waist with his other hand, grabbing his side and holding him there as he smiles, “All I’m asking is for a **little** give, every once in a while you let me know that I’m not actually a piece of shit, and that you feel something for me. That’s it, you don’t gotta do _anything_ else you don’t wanna do.”

Jackson’s heart races when Stiles touches him and he’s pretty sure the other guy can hear it, because to him it’s deafening, pounding in his ears, “Y-You’re not-you’re not a piece of shit,” He says numbly and almost drops his book, he’s having a difficult time looking into Stiles’s eyes while he says all of this, “I didn’t mean it when I called you a nobody, I really didn’t.”

He looks back up nervously and meets Stiles’s eyes, “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“That’s all I wanted,” Stiles grins and brushes the other man’s cheek with his thumb, “Not so bad, was it? You didn’t even have to say it around others, in front of them you could’ve still treated me like shit, it doesn’t bother me - as long as I know the truth. No one else ever has to know.” With the exception of Scott, but Stiles figures he’ll mention that some other time when Jackson isn’t already pushed to severe levels of discomfort.

He stares into the other man’s blue eyes, surrounded by specks of freckles and Stiles leans in, pressing his lips to Jackson’s and walking him backwards carefully until they’re tucked into the corner of two bookshelves.

Jackson’s eyes widen and for a second he stares at the blur of Stiles in front of him, eyes closing after a second and he moves with the other man, surging into it needily. He does drop his book this time, but it’s good, because this is easily worth it. Reaching up, Jackson grabs at the neck of Stiles’s shirt and pulls him into it more as he kisses back frantically like he may not ever get a chance to do this again.

Stiles gasps, feeling the hands on him and he’s kind of shocked at just how eager Jackson is, but it makes sense. Even with a week between them being together, he was **always** so desperate. Both of his hands grab at the other man’s hips, pulling him in as Stiles arches against him. He opens his mouth, taking Jackson’s bottom lip and biting at it roughly as he starts to slip a hand under the other man’s shirt.

Jackson’s been longing for this, but he hadn’t realized just how much he missed Stiles’s body pressed to his own, the other man’s mouth on his, taking him apart. The hands on the collar of Stiles’s shirt move and one arm wraps around his neck, the other cards up through the back of his hair.

He winces when the other man bites his bottom lip, though, “Easy,” Jackson says breathlessly and shudders at the hand touching his skin.

“Oh shit, sorry, baby,” Stiles mutters, chuckling and licking at the busted lip, tasting the coppery blood before he slides his tongue into the other man’s mouth. His hand runs along Jackson’s smooth, hairless stomach, pressing against his abs. Stiles groans as he bucks against Jackson, his chest knotting up nervously as his other hand moves down to grab the other man’s thigh.

Jackson kind of wants to laugh, because he’s even missed that stupid ass pet name and hearing it again makes his stomach do this weird, fluttery thing.

When Stiles grabs his leg, he lifts it and wraps it around the other man’s waist, kissing back and flicking their tongues together as he leans against the bookshelf for support. He doesn’t really want to come off this eager, but he can’t help it, so he clings to Stiles like he’s a lifeline, anyways, and tries to rock against him.

Stiles starts to reach into Jackson’s jeans, seconds away from turning him around and fucking him against the shelf when he hears footsteps coming closer to the back shelves and he pulls away just as the librarian’s assistant, Jessica, turns the corner and walks between them without really paying much attention as she shelves a large book and then walks off.

He stands against the shelf parallel from Jackson, panting as he looks at the other man.

Jackson’s eyes follow Jessica until she’s out of sight, and then he looks at Stiles, who looks like he feels; disheveled and strung out with kiss swollen lips, all pink and shiny. His chest is still heaving and he reaches up to wipe his own mouth a little, he doesn’t want what he’s been up to to be so obvious to other people around him when he walks out.

He moves then and picks his book up from the floor, situating it back underneath his arm before willing himself to step closer to Stiles, eyes wide as he stares at the other man for a moment. Jackson’s never really been a fan of awkward silences, though, so he presses a quick kiss to Stiles’s lips and ducks out of the book shelves to check it out.

Stiles leans back and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, running his hands through the buzzed hair on the top of his head in frustration, “I’m so fucked,” He mutters as he slams his eyes shut and hits his head against the books behind him.

He still has a girlfriend, and he was seriously just moments away from fucking Jackson. The other man is sensitive, it isn’t right to toy with his feelings, but Harley hasn’t done anything wrong, either, and Stiles **does** enjoy her company and companionship.

* * *

Harley smiles when she sees Stiles switching out his books in his locker and she sneaks up behind him, giggling as she wraps her arms around him from behind, “So I know you have Lacrosse practice tonight, but I was hoping maybe you could come over afterwards?”

Things have been going fairly well between them, so she doesn’t see why things can’t progress to the next step, “My parents are gonna be out all night at some fancy art gala.”

Stiles smiles nervously and turns around once he’s taken out his math book, he wraps his arms around her as well and leans down to kiss her tentatively, “Uh, sure, could be f-fun,” He leans back against his open locker and presses his lips to Harley’s temple, “I mean, I’ve got Lacrosse, but right after, I’ll be over there, yeah.”

Harley tries not to bounce excitedly on the balls of her feet, “Really?” She asks, beaming at Stiles as she leans up to kiss him again and again, “Great, and it will be - fun, I mean.”

She bats her lashes as she looks him over suggestively, “Lots of fun.”

Jackson’s between classes and he’s walking through the hallways, thinking maybe he’ll swing by Stiles’s locker just to see if he’s there. It’s not like he even really has anything planned to say, but he goes anyways and skids to a stop when he sees Stiles and his girlfriend hugging, she’s looking at Stiles like she wants to jump his bones and Jackson feels like he’s going to get sick.

It was just a kiss, he doesn’t know why he expected that maybe things would be different between them after it - but he’d kind of hoped for it, and now he just feels... _Stupid_ , naive to think that maybe Stiles actually did care about him.

“Oh, really?” Stiles isn’t completely sure what she’s insinuating, but they haven’t done a whole lot together, just yet. He reaches up with the hand not holding the book and pushes Harley’s bangs out of her face before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead and another to her lips, “I’m gonna hold you to that. If it’s not lots of fun, you owe me.”

Jackson snorts at the public display of affection and stares, even though it hurts to watch. He hates that he feels this way, hates that he wishes that was him instead of **her**. It’s never going to be him and if this isn’t proof enough, then he doesn’t know what is.

Shaking his head, Jackson backs up and takes off in the direction he came from, because if he doesn’t, then Stiles will more than likely see him.

“You’ll have fun,” Harley insists and tugs at Stiles’s collar to pull him into another kiss, “Trust me.” She winks and takes off in the other direction before the tardy bell rings.

* * *

Stiles wasn’t expecting Lacrosse to be what it turns out to be later that day. Jackson, so far, has been the most hostile person on the field and **clearly** something is wrong.

He hasn’t talked to the other man since the kiss, but the only thing he can think of that’s happened between then and now is the fact that he’s been with Harley most of the day. It’s a little unnerving to think that that might be the issue, considering Jackson has always had Lydia on the side.

It’s not the same thing, of course, Stiles knows he has to break up with Harley at some point, or set things straight with Jackson, he just... He has a hard time disappointing either of them.

Jackson growls out in frustration when Finstock blows the whistle at him for the fifth time now, he’s close to just throwing his gear down and stalking off, but he stays.

About a week ago, he probably would’ve taken all of this out on Stiles, but he doesn’t want to hurt him, oddly enough - he’d rather take the way he’s feeling out on everyone else. They’re all divided up into two teams for practice and McCall slingshots the ball to Ross.

Instead of just blocking Ross or trying to get the ball back for his team, he slams into the guy and grunts as he takes him down. The second he’s got the bigger guy pinned, he takes his helmet off and holds it by the face guard before drawing back, unleashing all of his pent up anger and frustration as he wails on Ross with it.

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Stiles mutters at Ross as the larger man gets up and slams Jackson onto his back, punching the other man in the side over and over again and he moves before even Scott can, running over to the two men and grabbing the back of Ross’s armor and trying to pull him off.

It’s not very effective, so he lets out a sigh and jams the end of his lacrosse stick up under the large man’s arm and slams it into the sensitive skin of his armpit. The reaction is immediate and Stiles backs away as Ross gets up and turns to him.

“What the Hell, Whittemore‽” Finstock shouts and advances on Jackson, then yanks him up to his feet to yell in his face, “I don’t know what’s up your ass, but I suggest you get it taken care of. Now, go take a hike, you’re suspended for the next two games.”

Jackson grits his teeth together, but he doesn’t argue back with Coach, he just starts stalking off of the field, leaving his helmet behind. He’s been mad before, but this feels different, it’s like a mixture of anger and sadness and it’s fucking suffocating.

He yells then and throws his Lacrosse stick up towards the bleachers, seething as he takes his gloves off and leaves them scattered along the ground as he makes his way to the locker room.

Stiles watches after Jackson, tempted to follow, but he doesn’t. He lets out a tight breath, glancing at Ross and backing up with his hands in the air. He’s not sure how Jackson **normally** storms off from the field, because he’s the one that makes that move first, but he’s pretty sure this is different.

He looks at Scott then as he backs up slowly and turns to his friend, “Is it just me or is he like... More pissed than usual?”

Scott nods slowly and looks at Stiles, “Yeah, dude, but he doesn’t- Like, he doesn’t smell strictly _mad_ ,” He explains and scents the air subtly, “He smells...  Sad, kinda. It’s like a mixture of both, I dunno.”

Stiles feels his stomach twist uneasily and he wets his lips as he watches Jackson walking away, “You wouldn’t happen to have been like... Listening any time today and heard something happen that might upset him? Like a phone conversation or.... Anything?”

“I’m not sure,” Scott shrugs feebly, “Everything was the same as it has always been. I was with Allison for most of it, you were with Harley and Jackson was... Well, I dunno what Jackson was doing, but nothing different really happened.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda all I **thought** happened,” Stiles says and narrows his brows, “I-we kinda kissed yesterday, well it was more than kissing. I thought things were fine, I don’t get it. I mean, it can’t really be much clearer than that. Maybe it’s something that happened at home.”

Scott’s usually slow on the uptake sometimes, but as he listens to Stiles he narrows his brows at his friend, because he doesn’t understand how Stiles doesn’t see the issue, “Come on, man. I know you’re not stupid, you’ve told me yourself how sensitive Jackson is. You kissed him, but then you went right back to Harley. I mean, how do you not see what’s going on?”

Stiles looks away from Jackson and frowns at Scott, “Am I supposed to? I’m pretty sure he’s still with Lydia or whatever, and even if he isn’t, he was when we were fucking like... _All of the time_. So I have a girlfriend, so what, that never bothered him before.”

He stops and sighs, “Okay, yeah, that even sounded bad to me. But what the Hell a I supposed to do? Break up with Harley? She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“I don’t know, man,” Scott puts his hands up, “You’re pretty much right in the middle of a shit storm and you’re leading on like two different people.” He pats his friend on the chest, “Do some soul searching, whatever it is you need to do, but you’re gonna have to pick one or the other eventually.”

“Why does it have to be me? Why do I have to pick?” Stiles asks helplessly, “Why can’t you pick? You’re the unbiased one here, and you know me better than I do.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Scott says and balks at Stiles, “I don’t know how things are between you and Jackson, I don’t even **really** know how things are between you and Harley. I’ve only ever seen you with her, not him. And that’s all I’ve got to go on. I don’t wanna be the bad guy in this situation, I can’t pick for you.”

He props his hands on his hips and ignores Finstock yelling at them, “Tell me what you like about Harley.”

Stiles frowns even more and props his lacrosse stick against his leg before crossing his arms, “Uh, well, she’s smart and funny, she doesn’t conform to gender roles, she has a cute nose, she’s a girl, she’s hot, yeah... That’s it. I mean, we haven’t been together for long, but she’s cool, and she likes me.”

“Okay,” Scott nods and takes his gloves off, “Now tell me what you like about Jackson.”

Stiles smiles slightly as he wets his lips and lifts his arms helplessly, “What’s not to like? He’s completely hot, he’s a guy, he’s got a seriously nice ass, and the freckles on his nose and his cheeks-his blue eyes-oh, and now that he’s out, he’s owning it, he doesn’t deny a thing."

"He has a rebuttal for practically every thing I say, he’s just as sarcastic as I am and most of the things I didn’t like about him before are just surface things that aren’t really true. I mean sure, he’s a hot head, but I like that, and I kinda liked the secret part about it too. And even though he’s kinda predictable to me now, he **seriously** wasn’t in the start. Just being around him makes me all nervous and numb at the same time."

"Do you want me to keep going? Because I’m holding back so many he’d probably **kill** me if I told you about.”

Scott smiles all wide and dopey and raises his brows at his friend, “Dude, if you don’t know who to pick after telling me all of that, then I’m pretty sure you’re hopeless. You like-you didn’t even smile when you talked about Harley, in fact, you did the complete opposite - you frowned. When you talk about Jackson, you actually smile.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, it’s ridiculously obvious who I’m into more, but I can’t help it,” Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m actually starting to think I might be like... _In love_ with the guy, which just sounds insane to imagine. It was just sex at the start, that’s the honest truth."

"I’m not gonna lie, in the beginning it was just kinda awesome that Jackson Whittemore of **all** people was taking it from **me** , but now I seriously think I wanna be with him as an actual thing.”

“Okay,” Scott says, still smiling as he shakes his head, “So why exactly are you still standing here talking to me, when you should probably go and see what his deal is?” It’s a little odd that Stiles and Jackson are into one another, but it’s not his place to judge; and if Jackson makes his best friend happy, then so be it.

“Point taken,” Stiles agrees and picks up his lacrosse stick, “Uh, I’ll let you know how it goes, see you later, and thanks, bud.”

He walks off after Jackson, but once he’s in the locker rooms, he realizes that the other man is **actually** gone, and not just from the field - chances are he's already went home.

Stiles showers quickly, dresses and leaves the school before sending a quick text to Harley about getting injured during practice and telling her that he’s sorry, but he’ll see her in the morning. It’s cheap, and it feels a little sleazy to lie to her, but he has to talk to Jackson and clear things up there first before hurting Harley’s feelings in a more permanent way than ditching her for the night.

He drives to Jackson’s house and is **seriously** thankful that, as far as he can see, Jackson **is** home - judging by the other man's car being parked on the street just outside. Stiles doesn't know the place very well, or where the other man's parents park, but hopefully he'll be home alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles walks up to the house nervously, having never really been here before and he reaches out and rings the doorbell.

Jackson tilts his head up when he hears the familiar chime and furrows his brows because he can’t think of anyone who’d come to visit him this late, and all of his parent’s friends know that they’re out of town, like they always are.

He shuts the lid to the washing machine after he puts his Lacrosse clothes in and heads back upstairs, making his way through the quiet, pristine house.

Jackson opens the door and stills when he sees Stiles, heart rate suddenly picking up and he rolls his eyes, “What do you want?” He asks bitterly, because he’s pretty sure he overheard Stiles telling his girlfriend he’d be over after practice, “Aren’t you supposed to be with Heather? Or whatever her name is?”

Stiles looks over Jackson, taking in the annoyed look on the other man’s face and he can tell that he isn’t really welcome at the moment. He shrugs and smiles at him sheepishly, “Yeah, but I’m not. And her name’s Harley.” He’s not sure if Jackson messes up the name on purpose or if he really doesn’t know, but Stiles feels like he has to correct him, just in case.

“I don’t really **care** what her name is, Stilinski,” Jackson says irritably, he’d done well not to take it out on Stiles earlier, but Stiles is the only one around at the moment and he’s still kind of hurt, “I’m really not in the mood right now, so why in the Hell are you here?”

“Uh," Stiles starts dumbly, his brows tightening together as he begins to feel a little defensive, “I came over to talk to you. You were upset, and you kind of attacked Ross on the field during practice. I wanted to make sure you were okay and stuff. I don’t get it, why are you upset with me? Is it because of Harley?”

“No,” Jackson lies and he knows it’s stupid, because Stiles can usually tell when he’s lying, so he sighs and his shoulders slump as he turns to move into the house, leaving the door open in invitation, “Not entirely. It’s just-It’s like you always feel the need to come to my rescue. Like, pulling Ross off of me. What the Hell was that even about? I can handle myself, and if you keep doing this, people are gonna think I can’t.”

Stiles walks in, closing the door behind himself and looking around the house curiously, “I shouldn’t have had to get him off of you because you shouldn’t have been fighting with him in the first place, it was completely unnecessary. That entire fight could’ve been avoided, you attacked him first.”

Jackson turns to him once he hears the door close, “It was either him or you,” He says tremulously, “So I picked him, it’s not like the guy didn’t have it coming. I can’t work through my issues with a few deep breaths, okay? I needed to direct it somewhere.”

“ _Issues_ ,” Stiles repeats the word and tentatively kicks off his shoes as he steps closer to the other man, “Issues because I was with Harley this morning, and not with you? Issues because I was kissing her and making plans to go to her house tonight? I can’t help noticing that you knew about that. So you overheard us talking?”

“I’m not deaf, Stiles,” Jackson retorts and it irks him how jealous he feels, “And I’m sure as Hell not blind. I don’t know what you want me to say. Yeah, I overheard. Yeah, I was trying to catch you between classes and found you kissing her. I can’t help the way I feel and it just-it pissed me off, so I took it out on Ross instead of you.”

“You shouldn’t be taking anything out on anybody,” Stiles responds as he reaches for Jackson’s arm, “Oh my god, you don’t have to be so jealous all of the time."

"And you can’t just go wailing on some person any time you get upset because I do something you don’t like. You come to me and you talk to me and we figure things out. You can’t just pick a fight because something happens that you don’t like.”

“If you don’t want me to be jealous or pick fights, then what exactly are you expecting me to do?” Jackson asks, ignoring the way heat seeps into his arm from Stiles’s hand, “Do you want me to just be okay with the fact that you’re in a relationship with someone who’s not only a different gender, but also someone who’s not me? Because if that’s what you want, I can’t - I can’t be okay with seeing you with her.”

Stiles frowns as he listens to the other man and lets out a huff of breath once he’s done, “What the Hell does her being a different gender have to do with like... **Anything**? I’m bisexual, you know that, and you kinda knew that before.”

Jackson closes his mouth and doesn’t answer, because anything he responds with is just going to make him come off more emotional and whiny than he sounds already.

How do you even begin to rationally explain to someone that seeing them involved with someone of the opposite gender seriously damages your already fragile ego? It’s one thing to know he’s not good enough, to know he’s not what Stiles wants, but to have it shoved in his face... That only breaks him down a little more, and he’s sick and tired of feeling like a **second** option.

Stiles raises his brows when Jackson doesn’t respond and he moves even closer to the other man, reaching up to touch his cheek and look into his eyes, “You can’t be serious. You don’t **actually** think that I’d prefer a girl over you, just because she’s female. Is that the problem? You’re upset because you think that’s what I want, and you can’t compare with that because you’re a man?”

“What else am I supposed to think, Stiles?” Jackson asks and reaches up to gently grab the other man’s wrist, then pulls the soft hand from his cheek, “And I don’t **think** it’s what you want, I _know_ it’s what you want, you wanna be with her - I’ve seen your gross public displays of affection at school.” He crosses his arms defensively, “So go be with her. You checked on me, I’m fine, you can go.”

“Are you seriously that fucking thick in the head?” Stiles asks finally, flailing before he reaches out to grab Jackson’s waist, “I’m not straight, dude. I’m bisexual, which means that I’m not **particular** to genders, I like them both, and neither do I like **more** than the other. You’re not inferior to her in any way."

"If you were comfortable enough, the PDA we’d inflict would probably send most students home just out of discomfort. The only reason that isn’t a thing is because it’s kinda been like... _A secret_. If I wanted to be with her, do you really think I’d be here with you right now?”

Jackson lets out a sharp gust of breath and uncrosses his arms as he looks at Stiles, “I don’t know,” He answers honestly, shaking his head, “You were with me yesterday, but you were with her today. So, who knows?” He shrugs helplessly.

“I do,” Stiles says softly, moving in even more as one of his arms wraps around Jackson’s waist, the opposite reaching up and he runs his fingers through the other man’s hair, “Everything I told you from yesterday was the truth."

"I was with Harley today because of a **few** reasons, one is because I wasn’t sure, and I’m still not sure, if you’re wanting this to be a thing. If I break up with her, that’s what I expect, and nothing less. If you want us to keep it secret, I’m gonna have to come up with a good reason to break up with her. You’ve gotta let me know what you want, baby, otherwise I’m not gonna know what to do to stop you from attacking members on the lacrosse team.”

Jackson closes his eyes for a moment and reaches up tentatively, slowly resting his hands on Stiles’s shoulders, “I want...” He starts hesitantly, opening his eyes finally to look at Stiles, brows drawn together.

“I wanna be with you,” He admits weakly, and this is probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to tell anyone, “But I don’t know if I can handle going public with it just yet, and it’s not because of you. It’s just-I’m barely dealing with things the way they are right now.”

“That’s cool, that’s fine, I was perfectly fine with it the way it was,” Stiles smiles slowly and cups Jackson’s cheek, leaning in and kissing him, finally. It’s a little weird seeing the other guy look so worried and tentative, but chances are he’ll be back to his old self in no time.

Jackson closes his eyes and surges into the kiss, hands moving from the other guy’s shoulders to the base of his neck, “But it’s **not** gonna be the way it was before, right?” He breathes out against Stiles’s lips and breaks the kiss long enough to look at him.

It was a hot mess before, a good fuck maybe once a week and they usually argued the entire time - and while he’s **slightly** fond of bickering with Stiles, he doesn’t want it to be constant.

“I don’t think it could be, even if we wanted it to,” Stiles says honestly, staring back, “We’re far too aware of one another’s feelings now, and it’s not really gonna be like a casual sex hook up kinda thing, right? Like, this is gonna be more like an actual secret like... _Relationship_ , right? That’s what you want?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” Jackson nods and raises his brows as he buries one of his hands in the back of Stiles’s short hair, pulling him in again, “Now, stop talking and just fucking kiss me again.” He moves backwards blindly and tugs Stiles along with him, grinning as he kisses the other man heatedly.

Stiles chuckles and kisses back, hands grabbing at Jackson’s waist as he moves along. He’s never been in Jackson’s house before, but he has a feeling that he’s not going to have time for a tour of the place.

He didn’t come over expecting sex or anything, but he’s definitely not opposed if one thing leads to another. Stiles just remembers the first time he tried to kiss Jackson and the seriously negative reaction it resulted in, and now here the other man is, **telling** Stiles to do it, even demanding it happen.

Jackson attempts to take the first few steps leading upstairs backwards, mainly because he just doesn’t want to pull away from Stiles right now, but he stumbles after the first step and huffs out his frustration.

Turning quickly, he reaches for the other man’s hand and takes off up the steps, leading him down the hall and into his room before pulling him into another kiss. He wants to tell Stiles how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed being close to him, but he also wants to be horizontal as soon as possible, preferably before his legs give out from lack of oxygen - so he opts for pulling Stiles towards his bed instead of waxing poetic about his feelings.

Stiles isn’t surprised by how immediate Jackson is, he’s known for far too long just how impatient the other man can be. He doesn’t complain as he’s led along, simply following as fast and close as he can, one hand in Jackson’s and the other holding his waist firmly.

He kisses back once they’re in the bedroom and it makes him think of the last time they’d had sex, when Jackson had told him that bed’s weren’t really gonna happen. The irony doesn’t evade him at all and Stiles grabs at Jackson’s shirt, tugging it up and pulling it over his head before kissing him again.

Jackson shivers when the coolness of the room nips at his skin and he stops moving backwards when he feels his mattress at the backs of his legs.

Breaking the kiss, he pants and stares at Stiles for a second before turning him around and shoving him until he’s sitting on the bed, knees lifting as he settles himself in the other man’s lap. Jackson rests his forearms on Stiles’s shoulders and grabs at the back of Stiles’s shirt, kissing him playfully before pulling it off.

This actually **does** surprise Stiles, and he’s not sure if he should cover himself or not. Normally they’ve had sex with about ninety percent of their clothes on, so he’s not sure what to do with this. Also, it’s unlike Jackson to be on top. Stiles hasn’t ever had the other man fuck him, or ride him before, so he tentatively starts to unbutton Jackson’s pants as he kisses back.

“You’re never this quiet,” Jackson complains against Stiles’s lips and lets his palms roam over the other man’s shoulders, “I hate to say it, but you need to talk-just tell me what you’re thinking,” He breathes and dips in again to capture Stiles’s lips with his own.

“Sorry,” Stiles chuckles against Jackson’s mouth and breaks the kiss as he unzips the other man’s pants, “It’s just... Well, not vehicle, we’re in a bed, and you’re on top of me, and more clothes are being taken off than usual. I’m not complaining, it’s nice, but it’s also new, and I’m feeling a **lot** like I did the first time - awkward, new to this, a little shy and stuff, you know? Plus, we’re not really angry or fighting, we haven’t seriously fought in a while, I’m just wondering what to expect from you.”

“Oh, well...” Jackson shrugs, “I can probably start an argument easily, if you want me to?” He chuckles at that, because if that doesn’t prove how dysfunctional they are, then he doesn’t know what will, “And I can get on my hands and knees, if you’re partial to that. I was just thinking that since this is gonna be more than just hooking up, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to explore other positions.”

“No, yeah, I like this, keep doing this,” Stiles says as he arches his hips up a little, “I’m up for whatever, baby, if you wanna change it up, that’s fine by me. But I’d like the arguing to be like only something we do when we’re actually arguing, or if you want it that way, but there’s no reason to bring it up if we’re both content with being happy.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Jackson kisses the corner of Stiles’s mouth and backs off of him slowly, standing at the foot of the bed as he pushes his jeans down over his hips along with his boxers.

He doesn’t really give Stiles the opportunity to say whether or not a question’s okay, “You **are** gonna break up with her, right?” He asks and moves to situate himself back on Stiles’s fully clothed lap.

Stiles feels his mouth dry as he looks over Jackson’s body and he swallows as his dick throbs in his jeans, “Yeah. I’ll have to think of something convincing enough, without making her feel like it was her fault, you know? But yeah, breaking up with her is the general idea and probably the only reasonable course of action, considering you’re naked and sitting in my lap, right? I’m not a player.”

“Do you wanna wait?” Jackson asks and reaches up to trace his fingertips through the small patch of hair between Stiles’s pecs, eyes following them, “I’m not really sure how well you handle infidelity.”

He’s almost mesmerized by how soft and pale Stiles’s skin is and he can actually explore it, something he’d never been able to do before, “Or even what your views on it are.”

He looks back up into Stiles’s eyes then, “What do you wanna do, Stilinski?”

“I wanna fuck you,” Stiles says before he can even give it a proper thought. It’s the truth, though, no doubt about that. Stiles hasn’t ever really **thought** about fidelity, he’s never really had to deal with two people being attracted to him at the same time, or at all, really, “I don’t wanna wait.”

The hand on his chest has him looking down, feeling the gentle caress of Jackson’s fingers through his hair and he smiles as he looks over the other man’s body, smooth and hairless, and Stiles’s own hand mirrors Jackson’s.

“Good,” Jackson breathes and leans in to kiss Stiles again, squirming a little in the other man’s lap as his arms move up to wrap around Stiles’s neck, “Then what the fuck are you waiting on, a written invitation?” He teases, flicking his tongue against Stiles’s lips gently, “Fuck me.”

“Uh, well, three problems,” Stiles says shakily, his thumb running over Jackson’s right nipple, “I’m still dressed, you haven’t really been prepped,” His voice slows as he gets to the last one, “ _And I don’t have a condom on me_.”

Jackson sighs and drops his forehead to Stiles’s shoulder, shaking his head incredulously, “How do you not have a condom on you?” He asks, because Stiles usually **always** has one.

He leans back and looks him in the eyes, “I’ll look in my drawer, see if I have one. You get naked, provided I have one, that handles two of the three problems.” Jackson pecks him quickly and shifts off of him, moving to the nightstand next to his bed and he frowns when he pulls the drawer out; all he has is lube and a dildo, the condom box is empty.

Stiles stands and takes off his pants and boxers, looking over at Jackson and moving to him. He doesn’t want to pry, so he settles for kissing the back of Jackson’s neck and wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist, “Any luck?”

Jackson turns in the arms around him and his frown deepens a little as he looks at Stiles before shaking his head, “Nope, I’m out.”

He doesn’t want to be a statistic, doesn’t want to be a teenager giving into the appeal of unprotected sex, but he also really wants Stiles inside of him. “You don’t have any in the jeep?” He asks, and he feels his skin flush all over as he stands there with Stiles, naked and with their bodies pressed together.

“Nada,” Stiles winces and narrows his brows, “I kinda abused the last ones I had, since I wasn’t having sex with you.” And two of them he put on his feet just to test them out of curiosity, but he doesn’t mention that.

Stiles swallows and watches Jackson’s skin turn red, “Kinda regretting that now, though, so not worth it.” He runs his hands down the other man’s back, over the swell of his ass, “We uh, we don’t have to have sex-I mean, I want to, but there’s other things we could do.”

Jackson rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and humors the thought, but they’ve never really bothered with foreplay or other ways of getting off, so it’s a little nerve wracking and he breathes in sharply when he feels Stiles’s hands against his ass.

“Fuck,” He bites out, “Um, what’s your stance on unprotected sex? I’m clean, I have the papers in my desk... But are you? A-And if we don’t fuck, then what **would** we do? Because if you think I’m sucking your dick, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head, “You know, for a bottom boy, you have a serious problem with doing much else,” He observes, the middle finger of his right hand slipping between Jackson’s ass cheeks.

“Well, I was a virgin before you, and I’ve never been with anyone else, so yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking clean. I’m not opposed to bare backing,” He leans in close, pressing his lips to Jackson’s ear as he lowers his voice, “It’d be nice to shove my dick in you and have nothing between my skin and yours.”

Jackson’s body reacts to Stiles and he feels his length twitch, breaths coming out in quick, shuddery bursts and it takes everything he has in him to not tense up. It’s been a while since they fucked around and, while he wants it desperately, he’s also kind of nervous.

“You should-you should do that,” He nods frantically and rests his palm on the side of Stiles’s neck, “Sometime today, though, before I change my mind.”

“Mm, well we can't have that happening, now can we?” Stiles asks, glancing passed Jackson and reaching for the lube.

He takes it in both hands quickly, pouring some over his fingers before pressing back down between Jackson’s ass cheeks and slipping one in as he steps backwards to the bed, dragging the other man with him, “I’ve missed being inside of you,” Stiles whispers low and breathy along Jackson’s jaw.

Jackson’s mouth pops open and he clasps Stiles’s shoulders tighter when he feels the finger dip in, gasping as he urges Stiles to sit down on the bed before straddling his lap.

“Don’t,” He shakes his head, “I mean, finger me, yeah, but don’t go getting all sentimental on me.” He’s not sure if he can handle _that_ **and** a different position all at once, “Not now... Not yet, just stow the mushy crap for a bit, yeah? I think I’ve had my fill for one day.”

He keeps his arms draped lazily over Stiles’s shoulders and drops his head back, hips rocking slightly to get the finger deeper.

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes in another finger, grinning as he starts fucking them both in and out of the other man, “That wasn’t me being sentimental, seriously, there’s not much like that, it’s **hard** not to miss it."

"Every time I’d see you in the hallways or in class, I’d just imagine pushing you against something and fucking into that tight little hole of yours, watching the skin puckering around my dick as I pull out.” Stiles hasn’t ever really went anywhere with dirty talk, normally it’s ‘bottom this’ and ‘whiny that’, but he figures trying this on Jackson just to see the reaction is probably worth it.

Jackson breathes heavily as Stiles works him open, keeping his arms around the other man’s shoulders and whimpering at the picture Stiles paints.

He wants to come back with some kind of witty remark, something exceptionally sassy, but he’s too wrapped up in the visual and that paired with how sinful Stiles’s fingers feel inside of him, he’s resolved to an almost pained looking expression.

“Oh God, I hate you,” He moans out fondly and wets his lips as he forces himself to look at Stiles.

“Hate you, too,” Stiles responds as he slides in a third and grabs Jackson’s dick with his other hand, wiping up a dollop of pre-come before bringing it to his mouth to taste it.

They’ve never really exchanged bodily fluids in such a way, so this is the first time he’s tasted Jackson - granted, he’s been able to smell it before, it’s hard not to when your hand is full of jizz, but he’s never really had the time or care to experiment further. It’s sweet and a little salty, but otherwise pretty nice, which tells him that Jackson’s physique probably isn’t an accident.

Stiles sucks his finger for a moment as he watches Jackson and then he pulls his hand away and grasps the other man’s dick once more, pumping it in tandem with the fingers thrusting steadily into him.

Jackson watches Stiles with his mouth hanging open and lets out some kind of half aborted choking/moaning sound as his fingertips begin digging into the other man’s back.

It’s like a sensory overload, being able to see and feel everything happening to him at the same time, whereas he only ever _felt_ before - he always had his back to Stiles and everything was always quick. Trembling as he shifts his knees, Jackson arches his back a little and drops his forehead to Stiles’s shoulder, hips undulating back and forth between the hand on his cock and the fingers in his ass.

Stiles chuckles and presses his lips to Jackson’s hairline as he slows until he’s pulling his fingers out, grabbing the lube once more and pouring some in his palm before reaching between them to grasp himself and smear the cool liquid onto his dick. Stiles shifts back, holding the other man close as he lays down on the sheets.

He runs his hand up Jackson’s back as he turns his chin so that their eyes meet, “Go on,” He says, smirking as he licks out against Jackson’s lips, “Put me in you.”

Jackson’s nerves get the best of him, but he nods anyways and leans back a little, reaching down between their bodies with a shaky hand to grab the base of Stiles’s cock. It wouldn’t be so bad if maybe he’d touched the other man’s cock before, but he hasn’t, things have always been really cut and dry between the two of them.

He wraps his fingers around the warm, firm length and gives it a solid squeeze, pumping it a little before he raises his hips and positions Stiles. Instead of looking down to see what he’s doing, Jackson watches Stiles’s face as he works the head of the cock into him, brows narrowing as he pants and tries to sheathe himself on the girth.

Stiles wets his lips as he stares up at Jackson, arching his hips to help guide the other man and then he drops his head back as the length slides in smoothly. Stiles closes his eyes, his mouth opening in awe at the feeling and he reaches out blindly, grabbing Jackson’s hips and pulling him down in such a way that causes Stiles to push in deeper.

He lets out a shaky breath and smiles, “And I thought you were tight before,” He says as he opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling for a moment, “Oh my God.”

Jackson snorts at Stiles’s reaction, but he’s just as gone on the sensation and he has to rest his hands on the other man’s chest to steady himself for a moment.

Stiles isn’t overly large, but the length feels massive inside of him and he swears that for a split second, it’s like he could come on the spot - just from this, just from having the other man’s dick stuffed in him. But it’s probably because of how sensitive he is, and not necessarily just emotionally - he’s always been exceptionally responsive to touch or physical interaction.

Jackson draws in a slow breath and closes his eyes, as much as he wants to look down at Stiles right now, he’s not sure if he can - it’s difficult to go from not really looking at one another during sex to facing one another - then he begins moving his hips, lifting up and rolling them back down.

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters numbly, his hands moving around to rest above Jackson’s ass as he helps guide the other man down.

It’s far different than the way they’ve done things in the past, the walls around him are tight and enveloping and Stiles whimpers sharply nearly every time Jackson comes back down onto him. He plants his heels into the mattress and arches up, the hands on the other man’s ass spreading his cheeks as Stiles thrusts up as he drops down.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes out in shock, his mouth going dry and he bites his bottom lip, toes curling as his back arches up from the bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jackson moans out loudly and his fingers curl against Stiles’s chest, blunt nails digging into the skin as he continues to rock down.

Each time Stiles thrusts up into him, though, it’s like it sends sparks up his spine and his vision hazes, cock bobbing and dripping pre-come onto Stiles’s skin. The sex had been pretty good before with a condom, but having Stiles like this is almost indescribable, the only word that he can even think of that comes close is 'phenomenal'.

Stiles looks over Jackson’s body, the visual fucking outrageous as he watches the expression on the other man’s face and he winces at the pinching of Jackson’s nails against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything about it. It actually feels good to have the other man touching him like this.

He moves his right hand, taking Jackson’s dick back in his grip and pumping him firmly as he tries to time his thrusts with Jackson. It’s amazing to have him like this, unfamiliar, alien, but sinfully good.

Stiles isn’t sure he’d be able to revert back to the simple, cold, quick fucks they’ve been having this entire time - not when he can have this. It doesn’t help that he isn’t using a condom, the sensation is almost unbearable, it’s like he’s seconds from coming every time Jackson pulls up.

Jackson lets his head loll back a bit as he gets into a rhythm, hands relaxing more against Stiles’s chest and his palms roam, smoothing over the soft skin and catching the other man’s nipples with his thumbs.

It’s overwhelming and the second he feels Stiles’s hand back on his cock, he almost loses it right then, hips stuttering for a moment and he furrows his brows in concentration as he fights to stave it off. Thankfully, though, even if he does come embarrassingly quick, he likes to think that Stiles wouldn’t judge - they **are** teenage boy’s after all.

“Close, huh?” Stiles asks as he grins and squeezes Jackson’s right ass cheek in his palm, rubbing the soft flesh with the tips of his fingers and thumb, “Me too.”

It’s not too bad, it’s far different than before, so it shouldn’t be surprising to either of them, all things considered. Stiles keeps wanting to tell him how beautiful he is, how good he looks when he gets into it. He’s never really been able to see the expressions flit across the other man’s face - but he likes it.

He doesn’t say anything like that, though, he just moans loudly when Jackson pulls up a little tighter than usual and it’s probably the most euphoric sensation he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

Jackson isn’t sure if it’s the jerking movement of his hips when he finally comes back down on Stiles’s cock or if it’s his labored breathing, but he’s glad the other man can tell he's close and he feels a little relieved to know Stiles is too.

Nodding, he finally works up the courage to tilt his head forward a bit, enough to look down at Stiles and it almost takes his breath away, “Oh, **fuck** ,” His eyes widen and his hips start rolling desperately, “I’m not gonna-“ He draws in a sharp breath, “Can’t hold it off.”

Jackson drops his head back again and reaches back with one hand, bracing himself on Stiles’s thigh as he fucks himself down onto the length, all but sobbing as he comes and clenches down around the other man.

Even if Stiles didn’t have literally _everything_ happening right in front of him to stare at, he still would’ve came just from the pressure around his dick as Jackson writhes down on him. That alone does it, but when the walls start clasping around him, it’s like he comes so hard that he sees white for a moment.

Jackson’s arched atop him, come spurting over Stiles’s stomach and chest, and he can’t get that image out of his head of the other man looking at him and just fucking losing it - not that he wants to get rid of it at all.

It’s one Hell of an ego boost, and Stiles grunts out Jackson’s name, fighting the urge to arch back as well, or to close his eyes, forcing himself to watch the other man as Stiles’s legs flex and his whole body shudders as he comes inside of Jackson.

Jackson gasps when he feels the length twitching and pulsing inside of him, chest heaving as he stills atop of Stiles. This is normally the part where Stiles hurries up and pulls out, they get dressed and they go their separate ways, but now that things are different between them, he doesn’t really know what to expect.

He leans forward and slumps against Stiles slightly, keeping the other man’s length inside of him as he does so, “That wasn’t bad,” He says warily, avoiding eye contact as he rests his head on Stiles’s shoulder.

“Not at all,” Stiles responds as he reaches up and touches Jackson’s cheek, caressing his skin as he stares up at the roof, “I can’t even count how many times we’ve fucked before, but none of them was quite like that.” He lifts Jackson’s chin and kisses him heatedly, his other hand grabbing at the back of Jackson’s neck and keeping the kiss tight and breathless as his knees bend and his feet slide along the other man’s calves.

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees breathlessly and kisses Stiles back, brows narrowed as he nips at the other man’s lips, “Definitely not like that.” If he would’ve known that it could’ve been like **this** , maybe he would’ve sought out 'more' a lot sooner.

Jackson rests one of his hands on Stiles’s chest and his lips wander, kissing the corner of the other man’s mouth and his jaw, smearing his mouth down along Stiles’s neck, “You can uh,” He bites softly at the junction between Stiles’s shoulder and his neck, “You can use my shower if you want?”

Stiles is kind of pleased that the other man is being all adoring, and not having the afterglow be as awkward as it normally is. He shakes his head and shrugs, “It’s fine, I kinda just showered, I don’t mind keeping you on me until later tonight.”

He reaches his hand up and runs it through Jackson’s hair, cupping the nape of the other man’s neck as Stiles lifts his chin and kisses him before stretching over the mattress, “You might want to, though,” He says as he starts kissing back, in along his jaw before moving to the opposite side’s ear, “Considering you’re kinda _full of me_.”

“Yeah,” Jackson mumbles and his eyes flutter shut at the sensation, relaxing more against Stiles and letting out a shaky breath, “You’re probably gonna be dripping out of me for days,” He says in faux irritation, sighing as he leans up a little and tilts his hips so that Stiles falls out of him, “Might have to restock on condoms.”

Jackson scratches the back of his neck as he looks down at Stiles and blushes, “You gonna be here when I get out of the shower or are you gonna take off?”

“Well, if you don’t mind me meandering, I’d like to be here,” Stiles responds as he reaches around, grabbing Jackson’s ass and sitting up ass he kisses the other man’s neck, “We could always order pizza and watch tv or something.”

As far as his dad knows, he’s still got his little date thing with Harley, and though he’s not sure when Jackson’s parents come home, if they come home tonight, he has a feeling the other man spends a **lot** of time on his own, “Whatever you wanna do, I’ve got plenty of time to kill.”

Jackson nibbles on his lip for a moment while he thinks about it, hands splayed out idly on Stiles’s chest up near his shoulders, “I don’t know what I wanna do,” He says honestly.

“Do you think it’s gonna get weird if we start actually hanging out and acting like a couple? I mean, I know that’s kinda the ultimate goal, yeah, but uh...” He shakes his head suddenly, even though the domesticity of it concerns him, he doesn’t want to send Stiles away right now, “Never mind.”

Jackson nods towards his nightstand, “My phone and wallet are over there if you wanna order the food while I’m in the shower, just make sure you get at least one pizza with ham and pineapple.”

Stiles frowns as Jackson talks and he nods numbly to himself, his hands retreating from the other man’s waist and he wets his lips as the lump forms in his throat, “No, yeah, you’re right, it might... Be weird,” He leans in and presses his lips to Jackson’s before shifting the other man off his lap and getting up to grab his clothes.

“We’re kinda moving pretty fast,” He says as he pulls on his boxers and jeans, “Relationship stuff is pretty weird, in general, so it’s probably best if we just wait and put a hold on... _All of that stuff_.”

“Stiles,” Jackson says flatly and stands up before moving to the other man, stopping him by grabbing him gently by the shoulders, “I’m an ass, okay? But I’m working on it, just ignore me, you know how I am.”

He feels pretty exposed, standing in front of Stiles completely naked, but he pushes it aside and slides his hands up to the other man’s cheeks, “It’s just not easy transitioning from how we were before to... _This_ ,” He shrugs hopelessly, “I’m gonna say some stupid shit from time to time, but I need you to take the things I say with a grain of salt.”

Jackson wets his lips and leans in to kiss Stiles, “Just hang around for a bit. I mean, it doesn’t have to be awkward if we don’t want it to be, right?”

“No, I know that, but you really **are** right, it’s weird,” Stiles pulls the other man’s hands from his face and kisses Jackson on the cheek, “The face to face stuff, the no condom stuff, the lingering after sex stuff, it’s all a lot to do on day one, it’s cool. I get it.”

He grabs his shirt and pulls it on, attempting a smile before he leaves the bedroom, “I’ll see you later.” He’s probably overreacting and being weird, but it’s best he lets this settle before trying to push Jackson into things - too much at one time could be overwhelming.

“Right,” Jackson says quietly and takes a step towards his bedroom door before stopping himself, propping his hands on his bare waist as he sighs and shakes his head, “Later.”

He glances over at his messed up sheets and kind of regrets saying anything, because it would’ve actually been nice to have someone other than Danny to hang out with - regardless if the said someone is his... _Boyfriend_?

Jackson cards a hand through his hair and stalks off towards his bathroom, because even if Stiles isn’t staying, he still needs a shower.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



	5. Chapter 5

Breaking up with Harley was rough, and the only excuse Stiles had to get out of it was that he wanted more time to level his Priest in World of Warcraft.

He wanted a reason that wouldn’t make her feel like shit, something that made him the bad guy, and not a **bad** bad guy, but just an immature person not ready for even the slightest hint of commitment. She understood, and it was the best he could’ve done under the circumstances.

He hasn’t talked to Jackson since the night before, when he left prematurely. He sits silently in the library during his free period, scrolling through posts on Tumblr on his laptop as he stretches out sleepily on the table he’s sitting at.

Jackson’s not really sure if Stiles even wants to talk to him right now, especially not after his monumental fuck up the night before, but he kind of wants to check in with him anyway, see how the thing with Harley went.

He finds the other man in the library and he stands there for a moment and just looks at Stiles, smiles at the way he’s all laid out on the table while he’s on the computer before he moves in and takes a seat next to him.

“Hey,” He starts tentatively and sits his bag down on the table, “How’d it go?”

Stiles side-glances from the laptop and sees Jackson, and then he sits back and straightens up curiously, “Uh, well, it went okay, I guess. She’s not happy, but she was pretty understanding, and didn’t act too much like a crazy person. I just told her that I wanted to play more games and that I couldn’t commit.”

Jackson turns sideways in the chair so that he’s completely facing Stiles, one elbow on the table, his other propped up on the back of his chair, “Do you feel bad for doing it?” He asks, eyebrows narrowing slightly, “Any regrets?”

“I don’t _really_ feel bad, I mean, I shouldn’t have asked her out in the first place,” Stiles admits, smiling sheepishly, “And I definitely don’t regret it, I mean, why would I?”

Jackson shrugs and looks away, swallowing down the nervous lump in his throat, “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure that if she’d been in my position last night, she wouldn’t have fucked it up.”

He breathes out and meets Stiles’s eyes again, “You’re not like... Mad or disappointed with me or anything, are you?”

Stiles stills and looks at Jackson in confusion and then he tilts his head, blinking slowly. It’s a little weird to hear the other guy be so concerned, okay, scratch that, it’s **really** fucking weird - like weirder than werewolves existing, which Jackson still doesn’t know about, “Uh... No, I’m not.”

He grins and stares into Jackson’s eyes, “Seriously, it’s cool, baby. If she was in your position last night, I would’ve been very disappointed, with the whole ‘not being you’ thing.”

Jackson wants to ask if Stiles is serious, but he doesn’t want to come across as needy, so he nods slowly and tries not to act as surprised by that as he actually is, “Good.”

He glances around the library in order to make sure no one is looking, then leans and kisses Stiles quickly, “So I know I’m suspended from the game tomorrow, but I figured I’d show up anyways and watch you keep the bench warm,” He teases, unable to keep from grinning, “But uh, you wanna hang out afterwards?”

“Actually, I’m kinda first line,” Stiles says slowly as he chuckles, “But yeah, I’d love to do stuff after that. You can help me find my teeth, wherever they end up spread across the field, shouldn’t take too long.”

He’s a little proud that Jackson got up the guts to kiss him in public, whether he looked around or not, it’s still a **huge** step.

“Finstock put you on first line?” Jackson asks incredulously and shakes his head, “Is it because I’m suspended and they need another player or is it permanent?” He’s not worried about his position, he’ll still be co-captains with McCall, but he’s generally curious because last he knew, Stiles was on the bench.

Stiles shrugs and closes his laptop as he turns his seat to Jackson completely, “I dunno, I guess it’s temporary, will be nice to not be on the bench, though,” He keeps wanting to reach out and take Jackson’s hand or something, or kiss him back, but he doesn’t, just incase he’s off, “That’s kinda later tonight, though, your parents don’t come home much, do they?”

Jackson splutters a little at the change in topic and tenses up, “Uh, no, not really, I guess,” He says slowly, watching Stiles, “Why-Why would you ask that? I mean, is that an issue or something?”

Stiles shakes his head at once, “Not at all, I’m just curious about you, is **that** an issue?” He turns the question back around on Jackson, raising his brows curiously.

“No,” Jackson responds tentatively and stares at Stiles, shoulders still slightly tense, “But do you think maybe I can get a heads up next time we head into personal territory? I’d kinda like to be prepared for questions like that.”

“Right,” Stiles says as he frowns and turns back, eying his laptop and considering getting back on it. He keeps forgetting that Jackson really **doesn’t** talk about things like that, “Hopefully you’re allowed to come to games, I mean, I can’t see why not, or how he’d manage to even ban you from watching them.”

“Well, even if he won’t let me watch, we can still hang out afterwards,” Jackson shrugs and he feels guilty for being the cause of Stiles’s frown, but there’s a lot the other man doesn’t know about him that he’s not ready to reveal yet, “See if we can actually tolerate one another when we’re not fucking.”

Stiles nods in agreement, “Yeah, well, I know most relationships can still work out, even if communication is an issue. I mean, all you really need is good sex to keep that whole flame thing going, right? And we definitely clear out there.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jackson nods, but he doesn’t necessarily agree.

He can’t help but remember Stiles talking about having someone important in your life (back before the whole Harley ordeal), someone to be there for you when you need them - and the fact that Stiles is now saying a relationship can withhold purely on sex, it kind of disheartens him a little because the picture Stiles had painted is something he desperately wants.

“Is that what you’re expecting? I get that I have issues opening up, but that doesn’t mean I’m always gonna be so closed off from you.”

“I was being sarcastic,” Stiles says and chuckles, glancing around and seeing no one else looking before he leans in and grabs Jackson’s lips, sucking and nipping at them for a quick, heated moment before he pulls back.

“Of course it’s important, and I’m not expecting this to go cold and just be about sex. That’s not what I want. And it’s not what’s gonna happen. Even if we have a difficult time, we can always count on stupid fights to bring out a few things to help guide us through. We’re good, baby. Don’t take me so serious when I say things like that.”

“Okay,” Jackson feels himself relax at Stiles’s words and he nods numbly, sighing and licking his lips as he observes their surroundings, making sure no one caught them. It’s a relief to know Stiles was joking, but it only further proves that they need to get to know one another better.

“I’ve gotta get going,” He tells him, reaching out for his bag as he continues to look at Stiles, “See you in Harris’s class?”

“Yup, yes you will,” Stiles says, also standing up and grabbing his laptop, “Ironically, I’m looking forward to it.”

He feels a little disappointed that chances are he won’t be able to spend **actual** time with Jackson until tomorrow night after the game, but he knows he has to channel some patience and just look forward to seeing him so soon, in comparison to how it’s been before.

“Me too,” Jackson admits and slings his bag over his shoulder, offering Stiles a small grin, “It’d be kinda neat to be lab partners, but I’m pretty sure Danny would skin me if I tried switching.”

He shrugs and glances around again before stepping closer, and when he kisses Stiles this time he lingers for a moment and reaches up to touch his cheek, “See you in a little bit.” One more quick peck and Jackson steps back, grinning wider as he takes off towards his next class.

* * *

The game doesn’t go completely horribly.

Stiles ends up getting a couple shots, surprisingly, and even though Jackson isn’t there to see it, he’s aware that the other man tried, and is probably waiting on him.

He washes as quickly as he can, but he got slammed pretty hard in the side, near the end of the game, so it twinges enough to hold him back. He dresses and makes it out last, walking down the steps and grinning as he sees Jackson and he walks up to the other man, his hands in his jacket pockets as he looks him over.

“You waited.”

Jackson hops down from his hood and shrugs as he moves closer to Stiles, most of the parking lot is empty, so he doesn’t really have any qualms about invading the other man’s personal space enough to plant one on him, “I did,” He confirms.

Grinning, he looks Stiles over and observes how tired he looks, then jabs him in the ribs playfully, “So how’d it go, did we win?”

“Ow,” Stiles bites his lip as he grabs his side and winces, “Uh, yeah, we won. We actually did pretty well, but I guess Scott helps even things when they’ve got giants on their team. One of them slammed into me near the end, so uh... Be delicate with me, something might be cracked.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jackson grimaces guiltily and takes Stiles’s bag of Lacrosse gear, then links his free arm with the other man’s, “Do you wanna take one vehicle or both? Because if you want, we can take mine and then I can always bring you back to your jeep. You probably don’t even need to be driving right now anyway-please tell me McCall waylaid the dickbag that hurt you?”

“Not really, it’s cool. But one vehicle sounds nice, you can drive, please,” Stiles says, feeling his heart flutter when Jackson takes his arm, “I don’t really trust myself with the jeep just yet, you didn’t tell me that lacrosse was hard. I like warming the benches more.”

“I would’ve knocked the asshole out,” Jackson grumbles lowly and reaches into his pocket for his car keys, hitting the little button to pop his trunk, “But yeah, Lacrosse definitely isn’t easy.”

He unlinks their arms to put Stiles’s bag in his car, then closes the hatch, “If you did good, maybe coach will think about keeping you on first line permanently. After a while, it won’t be so tiring on you.” Mindlessly, Jackson reaches out and takes Stiles’s hand, intertwining their fingers as he walks him just the few steps to the passenger side door to open it for him, “Just watch your head when you get in.”

Stiles nearly shrieks when Jackson takes his hand, but then his body heats and he grins slowly, squeezing the other man’s fingers as he feels his feet melt into the ground, “Well, I didn’t tell you that... I made two shots.”

He’s seriously proud of Jackson, even more so than he already was just for waiting for him. He actually expected significantly less growth than this, and yeah, Jackson can be unusually curt some times, but then he does things like this and it takes Stiles completely by surprise.

“That’s good,” Jackson reciprocates Stiles’s grin and feels his stomach do that weird flippy thing again when the other man squeezes his fingers, “I bet Greenberg’s jealous, I don’t even know why coach still has him on the team.”

He pulls his hand away slowly and kisses Stiles on the cheek, “Seriously, though, good job... Now, get in the car so we can go order pizza and not have sex and stuff.”

Stiles nods and lowers into the passenger’s side seat as he holds his waist, wincing the entire way down, “No sex, so disappointing.”

Just **thinking** about being without sex is kind of disappointing, even though it makes sense. They haven’t been involved since the last time ended kind of sourly, but he doesn’t complain, though he **really** wanted to fool around a bit, “Do we know how to do anything else?”

“Who knows, but we’re gonna need to find out eventually,” Jackson shrugs and closes Stiles’s door for him, then moves around to his side and climbs in, “Besides, you’re kinda hurt, so it’s probably the most opportune time to just chill together. Any other time and I’m probably just gonna want you to fuck me, forget the pizza.”

“I could fuck you _on_ the pizza,” Stiles offers, “Or while you’re eating pizza, or I could eat pizza out of your ass, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

He also does kind of like the idea of just spending sexless time with Jackson, it might give them an opportunity to get passed the awkward occasions where one of them crosses that line of talking about personal things without really knowing.

Jackson laughs as he starts the car and shakes his head at Stiles, “You’re not putting pizza anywhere near my ass, Stilinski. And honestly, I don’t think you could fuck me right now even if you wanted to.” He puts the car in reverse and backs out of his spot, then speeds out of the parking lot.

“You’re so lame, not a single bone of adventure in your entire skeleton,” Stiles jokes as he reaches across and rubs his hand over Jackson’s leg, between his legs and palming the other man’s crotch, “I think pizza in your ass would be **amazing**.”

Jackson pries his eyes from the road and glances over at Stiles, then looks down towards his lap and finally focuses his attention back on the road, “First of all, pizza in my ass isn’t exactly what I’d define as 'adventurous'. It’s gross and would probably land me a trip to the hospital, which would be kinda difficult to explain.”

He grips the steering column tightly, because his length is already hardening, “Secondly, if you don’t get your hand off my dick, I’m liable to wreck us.”

Stiles chuckles and removes his hand, rolling his eyes and putting them in his lap for a moment before one moves to his side and he winces, “One day, you’re gonna be up for pizza, though, and I’m just gonna say that I told you so.”

Jackson reaches down and shifts his length for comfort and snorts at Stiles, “It’s so never gonna happen, I wouldn’t hold out for it.” He grins and presses the gas a little more, wondering if his driving is frightening the other man in the slightest.

“You keep thinking that,” Stiles patronizes as he lifts the side of his shirt and frowns at the bruising starting on his side, _of course_.

“You know... This is the first time we’ve been in a vehicle together without it being towards a destination with sex planned, or back to school afterwards, kinda weird.”

Jackson glances over at Stiles and frowns when he sees the bruise on the other man’s ribs, “A little, yeah. But I’m pretty sure ‘weird’ is gonna sum up at least ninety percent of our new relationship, so...” He chuckles and shrugs, “What do you like on your pizza?”

“Your ass,” Stiles responds, smirking as he puts his shirt down, shifting for comfort as he stretches out his legs a little more, “Really though, bacon. I’m a simple guy when it comes to pizza, unless you include those really out of the world ones like hamburger or macaroni pizza.”

“Macaroni pizza sounds horrible,” Jackson makes a face and shakes his head as he taps the breaks, pulling to a stop in front of his house.

He removes the keys from his ignition and gets out without thinking, then moves to Stiles’s side and opens his door for him, “What about other food, what else do you like? Italian, Chinese, Mexican, Thai?”

“All of the above,” Stiles says as he smiles and climbs out carefully, letting out a tight breath as he does so and he looks at Jackson, “I just kinda like food in general, really. The only things I don’t like are things without flavor, and uh... Really fucking weird things like chicken flavored chips and stuff. You?”

“I don’t know, I’m kinda picky when it comes to food,” Jackson shrugs and shuts Stiles’s door, then reaches to grab the other man’s hand like he’d done back at the school, “I like pizza, but if it’s not ham and pineapple or just plain pepperoni, I can’t do it. I’m a big fan of Chinese, though.”

It feels kind of awkward, almost like he’s courting Stiles with all of the hand holding and opening the doors, but he doesn’t let go of the other man’s hand as they walk up his front steps together.

Stiles grins at the hand holding his own and he runs his thumb over Jackson’s skin by his knuckle. If someone had told him when this whole sex thing had started that it’d lead to Jackson being his **boyfriend** , of all things, and holding his hand, taking him to his home after a game (without plans of sex), he would’ve laughed himself into a coma.

But, as it is, and as he starts getting to know the other man more, it’s actually starting to sink in that it **shouldn’t** be surprising, "I guess that makes sense."

Jackson doesn’t pull his hand away when they reach his front door, just reaches into his pocket with his other hand to pull the keys out, letting them in and then tossing the keys on the little stand in the foyer, “I think I have some icy hot somewhere in this house, I could probably find it and put some on your side if you want?” He offers as he closes the door.

“That actually sounds **really** nice right about now,” Stiles admits and is careful with toeing off his shoes, “If only I was a werewolf, I wouldn’t be having this problem.”

He stops when he realizes what he just said and he tries to play it off like he’s just being a weird nerd, “I’m sure my Priest in WoW takes harder hits than this without batting a lash, and he’s a clothy.”

“Yeah, I’m not even gonna pretend to understand what you’re talking about,” Jackson shakes his head and kicks his shoes off as well, then moves close to Stiles and kisses him quickly, “I’ll go look for it, you can just... Look around? Or sit down and relax, whatever.”

Stiles nods and licks his lips, putting his hands in his back pockets the best he can as Jackson walks off and Stiles looks around curiously before moving into the livingroom. He slips his jacket off as easily as possible, trying not to pull the skin too much. He’s never really been injured before, not to this extent, at least - it was still worth it, just to get a chance to prove himself on the field.

Jackson tries the main bathroom first and looks in the medicine cabinet to no avail, then he tries his parent’s bathroom and his own, finding it in his.

He saunters back down the steps and tosses the little container in his hand, catching it as he moves into the livingroom, “Got it,” He says, then gestures to the modern looking couch, “Lose the shirt and sit down.”

He winces at how bossy he sounds and then tentatively adds: “Please?”

Stiles chuckles and does so, using the opposite side’s arm to lift his shirt and tug it down and off the other side’s arm before sitting on the couch and looking up at Jackson.

He doesn’t mind the bossy attitude, but he doesn’t comment on the apology either, “Okay, so I’ve never had that stuff on me before, what’s it feel like?” He asks curiously.

“Uh,” Jackson shrugs and moves to straddle Stiles’s legs, unscrewing the container, “It’s like kinda cold at first, but when it really starts getting into your muscles and stuff it gets sorta warm?” He says unsurely, because it’s been a long time since he’s used it, “It’s supposed to be good for injuries like this, though.” He dips his fingers into the salve and gets some, then gingerly presses it to the bruised skin before rubbing it in.

Stiles reaches out, grabbing Jackson’s thighs in his hands as he feels the cold spread along his side. He knows Jackson is probably being as gentle as possible, but it still manages to twinge a little, “You’ve probably had to do this a few times before, huh? Like when you took that hit from Brad Lawson, and Finstock thought he was gonna have to replace you with Scott?”

“Yeah,” Jackson looks up from where his fingers are gliding over Stiles’s skin, “Unfortunately, I didn’t really have anyone to put it on me back then, so you’re lucky.”

He puts the lid back on as carefully as possible so that he doesn’t get some of the salve from his fingers on it, then leans from his position on Stiles’s lap to sit it on the glass coffee table, “I’m gonna go wash my hands and then we’ll order pizza, yeah?”

Stiles grins and nods, “Yeah, sounds good, thanks.”

He runs his hands up Jackson’s legs, back over his ass and Stiles holds him firmly as he stares up at the other man, “Well, once you get back in lacrosse, if you get hit that bad again, I’ll rub it on for you.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Jackson says numbly and then leans down slowly to kiss Stiles properly, lingering for longer than a few seconds as their lips move together. He doesn’t really want to pull away to go wash his hands, but he needs to, so he follows up with one last quick press of his lips, “Be right back, the remote’s on the stand if you wanna turn the tv on.”

Jackson pulls himself off of Stiles and stalks into the kitchen, and he can’t help but think that things haven’t gotten extraordinarily awkward yet, thankfully. He washes his hands and flicks the excess water into the sink before drying them, then joins Stiles back on the couch.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



	6. Chapter 6

Stiles reaches carefully for the remote as he waits, flipping through the channels mindlessly before looking up as Jackson comes back in.

He’s not sure what kind of things the other man watches, but he figures he’ll probably end up putting on something Jackson’s not into, “Pizza?” He asks curiously, just in case the other man’s forgotten.

“Yeah,” Jackson leans to grab the phone from the stand and pulls one of his legs up under him as he dials the number. He orders two pizzas, one with ham and pineapple and one with bacon for Stiles, then sits his phone back down, “Should be about half an hour.”

Stiles shifts in his seat, turning to look at Jackson more comfortably, “So, I dunno what you watch, just please tell me you’re not the kinda guy that actually sits down and watches sports, right? You **do** watch normal things like Game of Thrones or Dexter or something, and **not** Jersey Shore?”

“What’s wrong with watching sports?” Jackson asks defensively, though he still smiles, “We’re both on a Lacrosse team, I don’t see the issue with watching sports.” In all honesty, he doesn’t really watch a whole lot of television, and what he does watch isn’t even going to be close to what Stiles is hoping for.

“Uh, yeah, we play lacrosse, but watching it is something else entirely,” Stiles responds, “First of all, the people aren’t really people you know, so there’s that, and also it’s on a tv, you’re not really there in the thick of it. I dunno, watching sports just seems boring. Am I gonna have to break you into tv shows?”

“Apparently,” Jackson says as he stares at Stiles, “Considering the things I like and watch are boring, according to you. But I feel like if you try to get me into actual shows, you should at least agree to watch a few games with me. It’s only fair, right?”

“Don’t get sour on me, the things you like and watch aren’t boring, I just don’t know **all** of them,” Stiles says sharply, jabbing Jackson in the side.

“But yeah, I’ll watch your things, you watch my things, that sounds like relationship stuff. Up until the point where we know the other person **really** doesn’t like it, the last thing we want is to be avoiding hanging out because I know I’ll be forced to watch football or something, or you’ll have to watch one of my weird shows that you’re not into.”

Jackson grunts when Stiles jabs him and then chuckles, “That sounds agreeable,” He concedes and scoots a little closer to the other man, “Hopefully, though, we won’t really be watching a whole lot of television. There are plenty of other things we could be doing... Well, not right now, obviously, considering you’re hurt, but you get the idea.”

“Or talking, talking is good too,” Stiles says as he touches Jackson’s leg, “I mean, there’s a lot we dunno about one another. I pretty much know **everything** about you when sex is involved, but there’s a lot of other things I don’t. Like, that you prefer ham and pineapple pizza, like a total weirdo. I guess I can see the appeal, though.”

Jackson smiles faintly when he looks down to the hand on his leg, then lifts his gaze to Stiles, “I’m not really a complex person,” He lifts his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug, “But if there’s anything specific you wanna know about me, I’ll try not to get all weird and defensive about it. I can’t make any promises, though.”

“Nothing in particular at this moment,” Stiles responds softly as he motions to the tv, “Just, not really sure what to watch, how about we start with something **you’re** into?” He suggests and hands over the remote. Jackson’s already done more than enough personality shifting to cause a little imbalance between them, he figures it’s time he gives a little as well.

Jackson takes the remote and shrugs, then flips it to ESPN, “I don’t really watch much tv, I’m more of an on the go kind of person. I only really come home when I need to.” And a lot of it has to do with the fact that he’d rather be out and about amongst people, instead of at home and alone.

“Well, considering you wanna keep this whole thing on the down-low, we’re a little limited,” Stiles says and squeezes Jackson’s hand, “And I **don’t** have a problem with that at all, but it kinda means we’ll probably be doing a lot of this. Fortunately, I’ve got this down to an art. All I ever really do is sit at home and watch shit.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to get used to it for the time being,” Jackson muses and he feels kind of guilty for wanting to keep their relationship a secret, but he’s glad that Stiles seems to understand. It’s not that he’s ashamed of the other man, he’s just not sure if he can handle more metaphorical shit thrown his way over being seen in an actual relationship with another guy - but he’ll get there eventually.

Stiles chuckles and leans over to kiss Jackson, “It’s not so bad,” He says against the other man’s lips, “And it’s not like we have to watch things all the time, like you said, other times you can just stare at your bed sheets or whatever, while I’m fucking you into them.”

“Or you could stare at them while I’m fucking you,” Jackson retorts and raises his brows, chuckling after a second and shaking his head as he kisses Stiles again, “I’m kidding, I’m seriously kidding. I mean, unless you want me too? I don’t know.”

“I’m definitely up for you fucking **me** , bottom boy,” Stiles responds and nips at Jackson’s bottom lip, “I don’t see it happening, but if that’s what you wanna do some time, all you gotta do is ask, and my ass is yours.”

“Yeah, I don’t see it happening either. I was honestly just joking,” Jackson says as he leans more into Stiles, watching the other man’s face, “Not that you’re not fuckable or anything, that’s not it at all,” He amends.

“No, no, I get it,” Stiles says quickly, reaching up to cup Jackson’s cheek, “I’m actually lucky, most guys that have like... You know, closet issues and stuff, are the **exact** opposite. I like that you love having my dick in your ass, and there’s no pressure at **all** for you to change that, or even feel like you should, or have to. It’s fine, baby, it’s perfect.”

“Okay,” Jackson says numbly and he feels kind of relieved, because he hadn’t been sure if Stiles wanted versatility or something.

The doorbell rings and he reaches up to touch the hand on his cheek, leaning to kiss Stiles quickly before getting up to go pay. He hands the delivery guy the money and takes the pizza, then saunters back into the livingroom to sit the boxes down on the stand, “My rents would kill me if they knew I was about to eat pizza on their new couch, good thing they’re not here.”

Stiles raises his brows, “Not a furniture food kinda family? I eat pretty much everywhere in my house. I think it’s illegal not to eat pizza on the couch - that was the designated spot for it last time I checked.”

Jackson shakes his head and sits down, leaning to open both boxes, “Yeah, no way. I’m technically not even allowed to have food in my room, but they’re never here, so...” He shrugs and grabs himself a piece, “What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

“I thought those kinds of parents only existed in tv shows and movies,” Stiles says and he’s seriously not kidding, it seems a little strange to have that kind of limit set in place for family members, “Okay, kind of personal question, do you uh... Do you and your parents ever really eat together? Like I know you’re home on your own a lot, but are they ever here to actually eat with you?”

“Mainly only on big holidays, like Thanksgiving or Christmas,” Jackson supplies and takes a bite of his food, “But that’s usually it, and even then they’re kinda prone to not show up. It’s fine, though. I’ve kinda gotten used to it and they’re both busy, so it’s not really that big of a deal to me anymore.”

Stiles takes one of the bacon pizzas and nods as he sits back, “Sounds tough, being alone all the time. I mean, I’m alone all the time, but that’s actually by choice."

"Holidays haven’t really been a thing between me and my dad since mom passed, so I can kinda relate on that level. I’m trying to picture your parents and how they think you sit at the table on your own every single time you eat.”

Jackson nods slowly and he feels like he needs to tell Stiles that he’s sorry for his loss, but he’s not sure if the other man wants sympathy, “I’m pretty sure they just think I’m gone as often as they are, I don’t really think they really worry too much about what I’m doing when they’re not around."

"I kinda prefer it this way, if I’m being honest - it’s not like they deserve a parent of the year award, if you know what I mean. Dad actually wanted to send me to some kind of conversion camp when he found out I was gay.”

Stiles feels his heart race and he panics a little, internally, frowning as he eats his pizza, “On the upside, if it’s an upside, they didn’t, or haven’t yet."

"I dunno what my dad would do if he found out, it’s not like we talk about those kinds of things. Even if I told him, he wouldn’t believe it. He probably wouldn’t believe it if **Scott** told him I was gay, he’s pretty ignorant to a lot of things.”

He smiles sadly and shrugs, “I guess we’re abnormally similar there. Just, it’s not dad’s work that keeps him from spending time with me or getting to know those kinds of things.”

Jackson finishes his first piece of pizza and leans in to grab another, “It kinda makes me wonder what my biological parents would think, ya know? Like, if they’d be like my adoptive folks and be against the lifestyle or if they’d be more understanding.”

He looks away from Stiles and shrugs, belatedly realizing that he’s never told the other man he was adopted, “Guess I’ll never know, though,” He says and takes another bite of pizza.

“Chances are they’re a lot like you, and nothing like your current ones,” Stiles says honestly, he knew Jackson was adopted, snooping around as much as he does normally results in knowing things you probably shouldn’t know, but he doesn’t mention it, “I know that it’s pretty common, no matter how your adoptive parents treat you, you’ll still have more in common with blood. That’s kinda the point."

“Mm,” Jackson chews and swallows, appreciative that Stiles isn’t digging or asking about it, “Maybe.”

He likes to think that maybe his real parents would be okay with who he is, but at the same time it doesn’t really matter, because he knows he’ll never be able to find them - and he’s not sure if he wants to.

Stiles finishes his first slice and moves onto a second, “So, I know you’re the captain of the swimming team and lacrosse, but which of the two sports do you prefer?”

“Lacrosse,” Jackson responds almost immediately, it’s not a question he has to think about, “It’s more physical. You think I’m an ass now? I’d hate to see what I’d be like without Lacrosse. It’s an easy way to get the aggression out.”

“Good point,” Stiles mutters, halfway through chewing, “But I’ve kinda seen that, it’s pretty much the first time we fucked."

"I haven’t seen you that pissed off before, if you ignore when you attacked Ross. I thought you were gonna kill me, and the next thing I knew, you were practically begging me to fuck you. Is that what it’s like without Lacrosse? Because I could totally be into that.”

Jackson chuckles at Stiles and finishes up his piece of pizza, “Maybe? I don’t know, I’m not really sure what came over me back then. I think it was like a mixture of, you know, being closeted and playing a game that violent. My adrenaline was pumping and you were the first person to check on me, thankfully. It’s all kinda downhill from there.”

“You practically stole my virginity, granted I wasn’t complaining, but you did,” Stiles says as he watches Jackson fondly, “One second it was mine and the next it was yours. You also stole my first kiss.”

He’s not ashamed to out his own innocence, now that he knows Jackson a little better. He’s not foolish enough to think that Jackson was a virgin in the slightest, but he kind of likes the idea of the other man knowing that he was Stiles’s firsts.

Jackson’s eyes widen at the admission and it’s a good thing he’s done with his food, otherwise he’d probably be choking on it right now, “I did?” He asks slowly and turns on the couch to look at Stiles, feeling marginally guilty.

“I’m sorry?” He apologizes hesitantly, “Or at least I think I’m sorry, you keep saying 'stole', so I’m not really sure if it’s something you’re proud of or not.”

Stiles sets down his pizza and leans over to Jackson, staring into his eyes as he grins, “You need to be a **little** more confident in yourself, baby. Just because you stole it doesn’t mean I’m bitter that you did.”

He kisses the other man, licking the pizza grease from Jackson’s lips, “I’m glad you did, it stopped the whole experience from being really awkward and embarrassing. I mean, I was still clumsy as Hell, and most of it was you, but it was seriously good.”

Jackson touches Stiles’s face and kisses back, brows furrowed, “It **was** good, yeah. You were good, obviously. I mean, you must’ve been if I couldn’t tell you were a virgin.”

He’s conflicted, though.

Part of him is almost proud he took Stiles’s virginity and first kiss, but he’s also concerned, because how many people can say they’ve only ever been with one person in their life?

“So like, you haven’t had sex with anyone else?” He asks, and he’s not really sure where he’s going with this, but he wants to know, “You didn’t-” He shakes his head, “-with Harley?”

“Harley? Um, no,” Stiles chuckles nervously, “Not many people have sex with someone they’ve only been going out with for a little while, you and I just started kinda backwards - which I don’t mind at all. But no, the most I did with Harley pretty much everyone in the school saw.”

Jackson nods slowly and looks down to his lap for a moment, expression pensive, then he meets Stiles’s eyes again, “Do you wanna have sex with someone else?” He asks, feigning nonchalance, “Because you can... If you want? I’m not doubting my skills as a bottom or anything, but I feel kind of shitty for being your one and only.”

Stiles’s brows narrow and he doesn’t really understand if it’s supposed to be a trick question or something, but he decides to take answering it slowly, “Is that what you want?”

It’s not what Jackson wants, because Jackson is selfish and if he could keep Stiles to himself forever, he would, “Um... Well, what I want doesn’t really matter. I just-I really like you and I don’t want things to get serious between us, and then some point down the line have you wonder what it could be like with someone else.”

“I’m new at this, but I’m gonna go on a limb and guess that sex with someone else is probably similar to ‘sex’,” Stiles says, watching Jackson closely, “And call me strange, but I think I’m kinda monogamous, I’m not wondering what it’s like with another person, it’s just **sex**."

"I don’t really know if this is forever and until the end of time or what have you, but I’m in it until either we grow apart and things just don’t work out, or you get over me. Until then, I’m not interested in anyone else. Or if we get to a point where both of us are comfortable enough and secure enough, maybe we could throw another person in for like a one time thing, I’m not picky, just as long as you know you’re mine, and you know that I’m yours. No one said we have to live in the eighteen hundreds.”

“Yeah, right,” Jackson feels indescribably relieved by Stiles’s words and he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, “That sounds- _wait a minute_. You think I’m gonna get over **you**?”

He scoffs a little and raises his brows, “For all we know, you could get over **me**. I think we’re both jumping the gun just a little bit.”

“We are,” Stiles agrees, “But you’re the one asking **me** if I wanna have sex with other people, that’s all on you, dude.”

He caresses Jackson’s cheek and stares intensely into the other man’s eyes, searching them for a moment unsurely, “Is there a reason you feel that way? Have I said something that makes you think I’d wanna sleep with other people?”

Jackson feels his cheeks heat under Stiles’s gaze and shrugs, “You haven’t really said anything, no. I already explained: I just don’t want you to have any regrets.” It feels odd that he’s been so open with the other man, but at the same time, it’s nowhere near as difficult as he anticipated it being, either.

Stiles slowly raises his left brow and chuckles, “You seriously **are** jumping the gun, baby, calm down. You’re acting like we’re already like... Married, with kids, and well into our sixties or something. I don’t regret this, okay? You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Jackson is pretty sure all the color drains from his face, because there’s opening up to someone and then there’s the awkward talk about all the things one another wants in the future. And while he’s fairly confident he can discuss marriage and kids without passing out, he’s slightly paranoid that they’re going to want different things from life.

“Is that something you want?” He asks suddenly, because apparently he’s a masochist and can’t wait to make himself uncomfortable, “Ultimately. Is that how you see yourself in like ten or fifteen years - married and settled down with kids?”

“I’m barely managing my life right now,” Stiles says honestly, a little nervous that he’s being interrogated, but he kind of doesn’t mind. It’s probably best he get all this out in the open now, “I don’t really think about those kinds of things."

"I’m sixteen, and there’s a lot of immediate stuff that requires about every single second of thought I have available. I barely think about next month, let alone ten to fifteen years, Jackson. I mean, I like kids, but I’m still kinda one myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jackson nods and he feels a little embarrassed, because he can’t seem to stay away from all the serious topics. This is supposed to be fun, hanging out with his boyfriend is supposed to be fun, not nerve wracking.

Leaning forward, he stacks the pizza boxes, “I’m gonna go put these in the fridge or something,” He says, then gets up quickly.

This is all new to him, the whole relationship ordeal. He was with Lydia, sure, but being with her was kind of obligatory more than anything - real feelings were never involved on his part, as bad as that sounds.

Stiles frowns as Jackson leaves the room and he sits there silently, feeling like he maybe said something wrong.

What kind of right answer **is** there to a loaded question like that? What the Hell was he expecting to hear from Stiles? He glances down at the bruising on his side and he totally forgot he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Hey, have you been practicing, even though Finstock kicked you out for a bit?” He asks curiously, trying to veer away from the subject of their relationship and possible future together.

Jackson puts the boxes of pizza into the fridge and slips back into the livingroom quickly, “Uh, yeah. I usually practice everyday, sometimes Danny tags along and sometimes I just go by myself.”

He sits back down and his eyes innocently rake down over Stiles’s exposed torso, “Why do you ask?”

“I guess I just feel like there’s a lot of simple things like that that I don’t know about you, you know?” Stiles moves close to Jackson, his body protesting a little, but he ignores it, “I wouldn’t mind training with you, some time. I mean, I pretty much do shit all on my own. I train with Scott every once in a while, but it’s... Complicated, lately.”

“Because of Allison?” Jackson asks and presses his lips to Stiles’s bare shoulder, “Seems like McCall is always up her ass, following her around like a lost puppy.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s part of it,” Stiles isn’t sure if it’s okay to tell Jackson anything, but he figures it won’t hurt to elaborate a little.

“He’s been going through a lot of changes lately, that’s one of them. I know you’ve noticed him actually doing really good in lacrosse. He said you’d accused him of using steroids,” Stiles chuckles, “It’s not that, but it’s... It’s complicated.”

“I knew it was something,” Jackson says and shakes his head, “You don’t just get that good at Lacrosse overnight... So, if it’s not steroids, then what is it?” He asks curiously, unsure if Stiles will even tell him - they’re not **that** close yet.

Stiles smiles sheepishly and shakes his head, “I can’t say, it’s... It’s not my secret to tell. But I totally would, if it was."

"I’ll ask Scott and see if it’s okay to tell you. I mean, it’s kind of not even his secret to tell, either, but the other guy involved isn’t really a talking kinda guy, if you know what I mean. I know it’s vague as Hell, but suffice it to say that it’s **not** something that other people need to know about. If Scott lets me tell you, you can’t tell anyone else, not even Danny. It’d have to be between us.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jackson nods slowly in confusion, “That **is** vague, wow.”

He moves then and perches himself back on Stiles’s lap, reaching up to touch the other man’s shoulders, “It’s kinda cool that you’d tell me if you could, though.” The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly and he leans in to kiss Stiles.

Stiles grins and kisses back, his hands moving to Jackson’s waist as he moans into the other man’s mouth and feels his heart flutter in excitement, “It’s the truth,” Stiles says against Jackson’s lips, “I’d tell you in a heartbeat, I mean, you’re my boyfriend, right?” He stops and raises his brows, “Are you? Is that what we are?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the proper term,” Jackson chuckles at Stiles’s expression and shifts his knees in closer to the other man’s legs, leaning in to press their noses together, “Boyfriend, significant other, lover, _beau_."

He lets one palm slide down Stiles's chest, his other hand pressed gingerly to the side of the other man's neck, "It’s all the same, but yeah, that’s what we are.”

“Good,” Stiles says firmly, even though he feels anything but.

He tilts his head up as he stares into the other man’s beautiful blue eyes, and then he blushes as he feels his nipples hardening because of the way Jackson’s touching him - it’s different than what he’s use to, still a little alien, but definitely good.

Stiles swallows and wets his lips, “The more we talk, it’s like the more I seriously wanna fuck you.”

“And risk hurting yourself even more?” Jackson asks skeptically and brushes his lips over Stiles’s teasingly, hand running back up the other man’s chest slowly, “I don’t think so,” He shakes his head, thumb rubbing over Stiles’s nipple.

“Just think about how pent up we’ll both be by the time you heal,” He utters lowly, then kisses the corner of the other man’s mouth, “It’ll be good, worth waiting for.”

Stiles runs his hands up under Jackson’s shirt, along the soft skin and up to his left nipple, his fingers running over it as he sucks Jackson’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites teasingly along it.

He can wait, it’s not like he really has a choice, but he can. He’d just rather not. Being wounded sucks, and it’s making him a little tentative to want to be out on the field for games if it results in this.

[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

It takes close to two weeks for Stiles to heal up completely and by then, Jackson’s so tense and anxious he gets snappy with almost everyone - including Stiles.

“So, I’m thinking maybe you should try to not get hurt on the field again, if that’s even possible,” He says distractedly as he fights with the buttons on Stiles’s shirt, “This is stupid,” He huffs out in frustration as his fingers fumble, desperation making him clumsy, “Your shirt is stupid.”

Stiles doesn’t mind it when Jackson gets stiff and irate after the first week, he can empathize, he’s just less expressive of his anger. By the second week, he’s pretty much done with the attitude, but he reminds himself of what the other man had said before, about it being ‘worth waiting for’.

He grabs Jackson’s hips and pulls him in, grinding the front of their pants together as he bites and sucks down the other man’s neck, “I know, I know,” He pulls a hand back to help Jackson with the buttons.

“Oh God,” Jackson groans out the second Stiles’s lips touch his skin and he pushes anxiously at the other man’s shirt after he gets the buttons undone, hips seeking out friction again as he tries to rut against Stiles. He doesn’t want to pull away in the slightest, he’d much rather keep his hands on Stiles’s warm skin, but he also kind of wants to get his shirt off too, “Clothes, I fucking hate them.”

Stiles yanks his own shirt off finally, tugging off the muscle shirt underneath before lifting Jackson’s up and tossing it on the ground by the other two. He rests his ass against the side of the other man’s car, one hand moving up Jackson’s chest, the other grabbing his backside as Stiles rolls their hips together.

“You should still apologize to Scott,” He mutters as he sucks flushes over Jackson’s right pec, “Wasn’t nice, tackling him in practice on your first day back, no matter how sexually frustrated you were.”

“He got in my way,” Jackson defends himself and shudders, groaning at how ridiculous Stiles’s mouth is, “It’s not like-" He inhales sharply and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of the other man’s head, “It’s not like I hurt him, he always walks away without a scratch.”

“It’s still not a nice thing to do,” Stiles argues back, taking Jackson’s nipple between his teeth and biting at it roughly before sucking the flesh into his mouth and running his tongue over the nub.

He’s not particularly upset about the tackle, all things considered, it was kind of hilarious. But, and to be completely honest, he’s afraid that at one of these points Jackson might push Scott; and bad things could happen. Not that he’d ever **tell** Jackson about it, but he’s afraid Scott would hurt him.

“I’ll apologize,” Jackson assures Stiles, because it’s the only thing he can think of that’ll get the other man off of the topic, “I don’t know what to say, though. ‘Sorry for tackling you, McCall. Your best friend is clumsy and got himself pummeled, resulting in me not being able to get any for two weeks’.” He shakes his head then, because there’s no way in Hell he’d ever say that.

Jackson’s practically shaking with want at this point, so he ignores the mouth latched to his skin the best he can and works on Stiles’s jeans, unbuttoning them and drawing the zipper down.

“Eager,” Stiles breathes out as his lips release Jackson’s nipple with a soft, wet pop sound and he tilts his head back up to kiss the other man, fingers dropping down to undo Jackson’s jeans as well before pushing off the hood and moving around behind him.

Stiles grabs his pants and tugs them down just enough, pressing his lips to Jackson’s ear and grinning as he slips his right forefinger down between his cheeks, “You're the most impatient person I’ve ever met in my whole life.”

He’s not surprised that Jackson’s already prepped himself (again), not with how anxious he’s been the past two weeks. Stiles can imagine him prepping himself every fucking day, _just in case_.

“Yeah, well, you must like it,” Jackson’s eyes flit closed and his cock throbs when he feels Stiles’s finger against his hole, “Don’t make me beg for it, Stilinski, come on.” He tilts his head to the side and catches the corner of the other man’s mouth, kissing him the best he can from this angle as he pushes his hips back.

Stiles grins and pushes his finger in, sliding a second quickly after, “That’d be something,” He mutters pensively, wasting no more time as he pulls back and pushes his own pants down his hips, grabbing the condom from his pocket and kissing between Jackson’s shoulders as he tears the packaging open.

Jackson grins when he feels Stiles’s lips against his skin and looks back over his shoulder, one brow raised, “Hurry up,” He says impatiently, rubbing his ass back against the other man’s length. If they were somewhere they could get cleaned up easily, then he’d probably stop Stiles from putting the condom on altogether, “Put it in me already.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, even though it’s one of the most pleasing things that Jackson can say, and his dick throbs in arousal as he rolls the condom on. He responds by planting his hand on Jackson’s back and pushing his upper half down flush against the hood, the other hand grabbing Jackson’s hip and holding him in place as Stiles slams into him without forewarning. He groans loudly as the tightness envelops him and Stiles bites his lip as he grunts.

“ **Fuck**!” Jackson all but shouts and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s half laying on the hood of his car, he’d probably be a trembling mess on the ground right now, “You’re such a dick... Oh God it’s so good, though.” His hands scrabble for purchase, to no avail, so he presses his heated cheek down against the coolness of his car, leaving his body completely to Stiles’s mercy.

“Exactly,” Stiles responds as he grabs Jackson’s hips with both hands then and starts moving at once, pulling the other man into each of his thrusts and staring down at his smooth, sweated back before his eyes drop down where his dick is disappearing between Jackson’s plump ass cheeks, “Fuck, I almost forgot how **good** you look like this.”

Jackson bites on his bottom lip as he feels his entire body break out in a flush from Stiles’s words, but he can’t really imagine what he looks like when he’s desperate for it like this. He whimpers as the movements jar him along the hood and he reaches back with one hand and grips Stiles’s thigh, urging him in and out.

Stiles pushes Jackson against the car, holding him in place the best he can as he rocks into him, “God,” He leans down and kisses along the other man’s shoulder and neck, “You feel _amazing_.” Stiles gasps and shudders as he pauses, pulling out and grabbing the hilt of his dick and squeezing it.

He drops his forehead against Jackson’s shoulder blades and moans as he tries to stave off the orgasm. It’s embarrassing how close he is just from fucking for a couple seconds, “Sorry, shit, sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jackson breathes out and shakes his head, body thrumming and it’s taking everything he has to not whine from the loss, “Don’t you dare stop fucking me. If you’re close, that’s fine, but don’t stop.” He moves his hand from Stiles’s thigh to grab the other man’s free hand, pulling it around his body in an attempt to get Stiles to touch him, “I won’t take long, just touch me.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, voice tight as he arches his hips and slides back in, his hand taking the other man’s dick up and pumping it, “Fuck, I’m seriously close,” He murmurs, voice low as his eyes tear up and his face turns red. He presses short, quick kisses up Jackson’s neck as he tries to keep fucking into the other man as steadily as possible.

Jackson focuses on the feel of Stiles’s hand wrapped firmly around his cock and that, paired with how amazing it feels to have the other man inside of him again is enough to have him moaning and whimpering shamelessly.

The kisses make him shiver and he reaches back again to clutch at Stiles’s thigh, just needing to touch him in some way and the contact is what sends him over the edge. He comes so hard his vision whites out and he gasps for breath, walls clamping down on the girth inside of him, “Stiles.”

“Jackson,” Stiles all but shrieks as he feels the length throbbing in his hand, the walls clamping around his dick and Stiles whimpers as he comes as well. He wasn’t really counting on Jackson being just as close, but it’s nice to know that that’s the case.

He doesn’t stop moving, pulling out and all but ripping the condom off before thrusting back in and tying up the rubber, “Fucking Christ, Jackson.”

“Yeah,” Jackson grunts and shifts his hips when Stiles slides back in bare, “Oh my God, we shouldn’t go so long without it again. I mean,” He takes in a few deep breaths and leans up a little, “That lasted like maybe three minutes, what the hell.”

“Seriously, it’s insane how-” Stiles stuffs the used condom in his back pocket where he’d put the wrapper before grabbing Jackson’s hips once more and dropping his head back as his hips roll forward, “I think the last time I came that fast, I was like... Ten or something,” He chuckles as his dull nails dig into the other man’s skin and then Stiles pulls him up from the hood, grabbing his chin and kissing him breathlessly as he continues moving.

“ _Same_ ,” Jackson whispers into Stiles’s lips and reaches back to touch the other man’s face, cheeks tinged pink from his orgasm, “It was good, though, yeah?” He’s not really sure what Stiles is going for, but it's nice to just feel the other man inside of him, no latex barrier keeping them apart.

“No, it felt completely _horrible_ , that’s why I came so soon,” Stiles responds sarcastically as he smooths his hands up Jackson’s torso, fingers scratching over his nipples, “It was amazing, baby, you always feel fucking amazing.” Some times when he says things like that, he thinks it sounds cheesy for about two seconds before he realizes that that was the point in the first place, when he initially started calling Jackson ‘baby’ just to piss him off.

Jackson rolls his eyes at the snark, but reaches up to touch the hand on his chest, pressing his fingers in between Stiles’s, “Yeah, so do you,” He says, grinning because he likes the way the other man feels as his length softens inside of him, “Kinda wish we would’ve done this in a bed,” He admits.

Stiles raises his brows and chuckles, “Is that so?” He asks as he blinks and stills, turning Jackson’s face and staring into his eyes, “Well, alright,” Stiles lowers his voice as he licks at the other man’s lips, “You doin’ anything later tonight, baby?”

“You, hopefully,” Jackson replies and kisses Stiles, moving his hip forward in order to get the other man to slide out of him. He turns then and grabs Stiles by his shoulders, grinning as he pulls him closer, arms slinking around the other man’s neck, “My bed or yours?”

“Ooo, there’s an option?” Stiles is actually generally surprised, “You sure you’d be okay if we went to my house? I’m just... I’m asking because that involves you **going** to my house, you know? I mean, we can always just go to your house, I’m totally okay with that, too.”

“Well, unless your dad is home I don’t see why I couldn’t come to your place,” Jackson says and pulls back a little, watching Stiles’s face, “What’s with the surprise?” He asks then, letting his hands fall from the other man’s shoulders to pull his pants up.

Stiles pulls up his own pants, shrugging, “I dunno, I’ve-you’ve never been to my house, you’ve never seen my room. That’s kinda the surprise, and, you know, just-yeah, but I’m cool with that, too. Dad has a double shift tonight, so that’s solved.”

Jackson nods slowly and bends down to grab their shirts, handing Stiles his before he pulls his own on. He kind of wants to comment on it further, but he doesn’t. It’s not really that big of a deal, or at least he doesn’t think it is, he’d have to go to Stiles’s house sooner or later, right? Besides, it’ll be dark, so it’s not like anyone will see him.

“Oh!” Stiles’s eyes widen and he grins as he puts on both of his shirts and grabs Jackson’s waist, pulling him in as he leans close enough to kiss around the other man’s lips, “I’m allowed to tell you what it is that’s got Scott all pumped up for lacrosse, but you’ve **gotta** make me a promise, before I do so.”

Jackson grabs the hem of Stiles’s shirt and balls the fabric up in his fists, raising a curious brow as he catches the other man’s lips with his own, “Yeah, and what’s that?” He asks.

“No freaking out or anything, okay?” Stiles stares seriously at the other man, “Seriously, I’m not making this shit up, and you can’t go screaming off to someone to claim that I’ve gone insane.”

“No freaking out, got it,” Jackson nods and raises his brows expectantly, “Now out with it, what is it?” He’s wanted to know McCall’s secret for a while now, so he’s kind of anxious to finally find out.

Stiles lets out a huff of air, wetting his lips as he keeps their eyes locked, “A while back, before Scott and Allison got together, he was bitten by an alpha werewolf, and so... He’s a werewolf, now. And so is Derek Hale, Derek’s also a werewolf, but we don’t think he’s the alpha.”

“Stiles,” Jackson says flatly and he’s kind of disappointed that the other man is trying to play some kind of joke on him, “You can tell me the truth, you don’t have to come up with this insane lie. It’s steroids like I thought it was, isn’t it?”

Stiles sighs and shakes his head, “No, I’m serious. I’m so dead serious that it’s not even funny. Werewolves are real, he’s a werewolf, and he transforms every single full moon, and when you piss him off and he loses control, he shifts. That’s why he’s the way he is. Even with steroids, do you **really** think he’d be able to do the things he does?”

Jackson wants to believe Stiles, because he’s seen some of the insane stunts McCall’s pulled off, but he’s not gullible and he’s sure as hell not just going to start believing in mythical creatures just because his boyfriend says they’re real.

“Okay,” He says calmly and finally lets go of Stiles’s shirt to rub the back of his neck, “I’ll admit some of the things he’s able to do defy physics entirely, but I-” He sighs and looks into Stiles’s eyes, “I don’t believe you, you really can’t expect me to believe it. It sounds insane.”

“Yeah, I know it does, it’s crazy,” Stiles frowns, a **little** disappointed that Jackson actually doesn’t believe him, “I’m not Scott, so I can’t sprout fangs and claws to show you, but that’s how it is. That’s the truth.”

He shrugs helplessly as he moves from Jackson to fix his clothes, “But yeah, it’s kinda insane.”

Jackson watches Stiles and he feels guilty, because he can tell he inadvertently hurt the other man’s feelings by not believing him, but he probably won’t believe it at all until he has proof - and that won’t happen, “Don’t get all butt hurt because I don’t believe you,” He says, and belatedly realizes he could’ve said it a little nicer, “If and when I’m provided with proof, you’re more than welcome to rub it in my face and say I told you so.”

“I will,” Stiles says as he puts his hands in his pockets, “So later, tonight... At my house.”

He knows he’s being ‘butt hurt’, but it’s kind of disappointing, even when he’s trying **not** to let it be disappointing, “You gonna drive there or, do you want me to take you from school or whatever?”

“Yeah, I can drive,” Jackson says and narrows his brows at Stiles’s body language, how cold it is, “Are you sure it’s even a good idea for me to still come?” He asks suddenly, because he’s never been one to beat around the bush, “Because I’m kinda getting the feeling you might not wanna be around me.”

“No, it’s fine, I want you to come over, I’m just... Being 'butt hurt',” Stiles says dismissively and moves around the back of Jackson’s car, walking to his jeep and opening the driver’s door before climbing in. If there’s one thing Stiles hates more than anything in the world, it’s not being believed.

How many times he’s said things to his dad, only to be disbelieved completely, he couldn’t even begin to count. He should probably be better at reacting to people not believing him.

“No goodbye kiss or anything?” Jackson says loud enough for Stiles to hear him, even though the other man’s windows are up.

He moves to the jeep and opens the driver side door, frowning at the other man, “Don’t be like this,” He says softly, then reaches up to touch Stiles’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, turning Stiles’s head towards him so he can lean in and kiss him.

Stiles can’t help but smile a little and kiss the other man back before pulling away, “I didn’t know that was like, a thing, but okay. I like it,” He reaches out, cupping Jackson’s cheek and kissing him again, slower, then he pulls back, “See you tonight.”

“See you,” Jackson nods and runs his thumb over Stiles’s bottom lip before kissing him again, quick and chaste before pulling away to close the door.

He’s not naive enough to think that Stiles isn’t upset with him anymore but, so long as the other man doesn’t push him away completely, he knows things will be okay.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



	8. Chapter 8

Stiles swears he doesn’t spend the time he has at the house on his own cleaning and going through things, and doing laundry, and doing the dishes, and cleaning the downstairs, he **really** doesn’t - _okay, maybe he does_.

He practically freaks when the door bell rings and Stiles looks around frantically. He’s not done, but Jackson’s apparently here, so he puts down what he’s doing and gets up, rushing downstairs to the door while he glances himself over and nods, then reaches out and opens the door.

Stiles grins and leans against it, looking Jackson up and down pointedly, “Hey baby.”

Jackson can’t help but snort and smile at how cheesy Stiles is, “Hey,” He says and moves to step inside, stopping only to press a quick kiss to Stiles’s lips, “Dork,” He utters fondly.

“Uh huh,” Stiles closes the door behind Jackson, watching him tentatively as he looks around as subtly as possible, “So, yeah, this is my house,” He says awkwardly, “Nothing special, really. You wanna go to my room?” Which totally isn’t his way of asking if Jackson wants to have sex, but they’re probably safest from embarrassment in the bedroom, maybe.

“Yeah, sure,” Jackson nods and looks around, its homey and something about it makes him feel at ease. Not even his own house makes him feel at home, but Stiles’s place just has that vibe, “Lead the way.”

Stiles grins even wider and locks the front door, walking ahead of Jackson and leading him upstairs and to the right, only pausing for a second to tell him which one of the hallway doors leads to the bathroom before he walks into his bedroom and waits for the other man’s reaction, still glancing around to make sure everything looks right, “This is, uh, obviously my bedroom, you know - where I sleep and, uh, do... Other things.”

Jackson follows and looks around, takes in all of the pictures and posters and just like the two of them, even their bedroom’s are polar opposites. It makes him smile, though, because the more he observes the room, it becomes painfully obvious that it’s Stiles’s - it just has Stiles written all over it. He’d probably be able to tell it belonged to Stiles even if he didn’t know.

“It’s definitely you,” He says, toeing his shoes off before moving to the other man, “Are you still upset with me?”

“Uh,” Stiles is a little caught off guard by the question, but he shrugs and tries to downplay it as much as possible, “It’s fine, I mean, I wasn’t upset. I just-it’s nothing. I guess I should just get use to people thinking I live in a constant world of make-believe. I’ve pretty much cried wolf my entire life, anyways.”

“You know I want to believe you, right?” Jackson asks, because he can tell it’s still bothering Stiles, “Does that count for anything?” He hopes it does, because he’s not really sure how well he can handle Stiles being disappointed with him. It’s bad enough that it’s bothered him all day.

“Sure, [_Scully_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1151175),” Stiles says as he moves to Jackson, grabbing his waist and pulling him in close, “As long as you wanna believe, I guess that makes more room for the possibilities."

"I have a pet peeve of people not believing me,” He admits then, swallowing and pressing his thumb into Jackson’s hip gently, “Just like you have this whole thing about not thinking you’re good enough, or whatever it is that makes you strive for greatness, and wanting others to love you. I want people to believe me."

"I get that it’s out there and it’s weird. But is it really that difficult to take me on my word? You **know** it’s not steroids, Scott’s far too innocent to be involved with drugs. And I can’t name many people that get over asthma that quickly, otherwise it wouldn’t even be an issue in the world.”

“I get that, I do,” Jackson assures Stiles and reaches up to grasp his shoulders, “But... Werewolves, Stiles? I can’t-I can’t believe that. It’s like asking me to believe in Santa Clause.”

He leans up and kisses the other man chastely, “Put yourself in my shoes, it’s bizarre and I don’t think you’d believe it either.”

“I was actually the one that suggested it to Scott in the first place, when it happened,” Stiles admits, chuckling, “I mean, I said it as a joke, but I didn’t **not** believe it."

"We went out in the woods to find a body and my dad caught me, and then Scott came to school the next day with this huge bite on his side... Or he says it was huge, I never saw it, just the blood and gauze. The bite had healed, and after that his job at the vet got.... A little difficult. Remember when your locker got ruined and you couldn’t figure out who did it? That was Scott, thinking he’d killed Allison, when that guy got attacked in the bus.”

“ **McCall** did that to my locker?” Jackson asks incredulously and raises his brows, “You want me to believe this so bad and I-I want to believe you, but come on... Can you prove it at all? Where’s Scott right now, can he prove it?” He chuckles and shrugs, “This is insane, babe. I mean, really?”

“ _Babe_ , huh?” Stiles asks softly, guiding Jackson back until the backs of his knees hit the bed and Stiles pushes him down onto it, “Taking my nicknames now?” He teases as he climbs on top of the other man, his waist settling between Jackson’s legs.

Stiles leans down to his ear and breathes against it as he nibbles the soft skin around it, “You want to believe me, you want proof, but you can’t even **begin** to explain what else it could be, yourself,” He looks into Jackson’s eyes then, “I think you’re gonna have to make up for the fact that you don’t believe me, by doing something equally sincere. Do you _trust_ me?”

Jackson’s cheeks heat because he hadn’t even realized he’d called Stiles babe, pet names haven’t really ever been his thing, but apparently Stiles is an exception. His eyes widen a little when Stiles pushes him to the bed and his breath catches in his throat when the other man settles between his thighs, eyes fluttering when he feels Stiles’s hot mouth against his ear.

“You’re probably the only person I **do** trust, besides for Danny,” He admits thoughtfully, shifting his legs a little against Stiles’s sides, “I’m kinda hoping you won’t make me regret it.”

Stiles runs his hand up under Jackson’s shirt, fingers ghosting along his skin as he stares at the other man, “No, no, I won’t make you regret it. I just wanna give it a little test drive,” He reaches out for the handcuffs on the side of his headboard and lays back down against Jackson, the cold metal of the handcuffs touching the other man’s skin, “You think you’re up for that?”

Jackson’s eyes widen when he feels the cold bite of the metal against his skin and he’s close to asking where in the hell Stiles managed to procure handcuffs, but his father **is** the sheriff, so it makes a little bit of sense.

He eyes the restraints warily - even though his body is definitely already on board - and wets his lips, “You wanna handcuff me... And what? Just have your way with me? Why **wouldn’t** I be up for that?”

“Giving up control completely isn’t normally an easy thing for most men to do,” Stiles replies, his voice still low and husky against the other man’s ear as his free hand pinches Jackson’s right nipple, “You’ll be at a disadvantage, I could easily overpower you and pretty much do just about anything I wanted - including, but not limited to, leaving you here, not getting you off, and keeping you here until I wanna release you. You still up for it?”

“I’m a little nervous,” Jackson admits, but if this is a way to make things up to Stiles for not believing him, then he’ll hand the reigns over and instill all of his trust in the other man, “But I-I’m good, I’m up for it.”

He uses his hands while he still can and reaches up to clutch Stiles’s face, pulling him into a slow, heated kiss to calm his nerves, “ _Do it_ ,” He whispers against the other man’s lips.

Stiles grins impishly and reaches out, snagging the key from above his headboard and opening the cuffs as he glances up at the other man. He knew he’d **eventually** use these, and procuring them from the station was worth the anxiety it caused before, during, and afterwards.

He sets them aside, taking off Jackson’s shirt first before shifting him across the bed and Stiles lays out the other man’s arms above his head, bending at the elbow just at the end of the mattress so that his hands hang down.

Stiles takes the handcuffs up again and cuffs Jackson’s left wrist first, hooking the chain of it underneath and around the frame of the bed before cuffing the right. His grin widens even more as he sets the key on the ground just under them, but far enough out of reach that Jackson would never be able to get it.

He shifts atop the other man, grinding the front of their pants together as he stares into Jackson’s eyes and smooths his hands back up the other man’s arms, “Comfy?”

“Until my arms go numb, yeah,” Jackson nods and wiggles his wrists a little, testing the restraint of the cuffs curiously. His heart rate picks up when he realizes that he’s stuck, but it’s what he signed up for, right? _It’ll be okay_ , he tries to tell himself. It’s not like Stiles is suddenly going to turn into some kind of serial killer and chop him into pieces.

“Nah, before we get to that point, I’ll roll you over,” Stiles chuckles and pulls off his own shirt, then he moves down, taking off Jackson’s shoes and socks before undoing his pants and tugging them down his hips and thighs, boxers as well.

He takes his time, setting the clothes on the office chair by his desk before returning and looking over Jackson’s naked body. Stiles’s mouth waters as he eyes the other man’s length and he climbs back over Jackson, kissing him roughly and grabbing his hips to hoist him into Stiles’s lap before his mouth moves down, nipping and sucking the other man’s skin between his lips. They’ve never really done much of the whole _foreplay_ thing, but Stiles intends to change that.

Jackson can’t really do anything but watch and lift his hips when Stiles takes his pants off, chest heaving nervously. When the other man kisses him, though, he surges up into it the best he can until Stiles pulls away to move further down.

The mouth is like a brand against his skin, so hot, and he’s convinced he’ll be able to see each place Stiles nips - or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Closing his eyes, Jackson arches into it eagerly and links his ankles loosely around Stiles to keep him close.

Stiles continues down until he passes Jackson’s rib cage and then he comes back up, “I can’t help but notice that I’ve never given you a blowjob,” He says, raising a brow as he leans down and sucks on Jackson’s right earlobe, “I want to,” He breathes into the other man’s ear, “I’ve wanted to do it for a while now. But, as much as I want it, I want something from you, first.”

Stiles pulls back to look into Jackson’s eyes, staring at him silently for a moment and then he says: “I want you to tell me about the first time you fingered yourself, **while** you were thinking about me.”

Jackson opens his mouth and splutters a little bit, because how in the hell is he supposed to tell Stiles that without turning red all over? It’s bad enough just thinking about it gets him heated, “You want me to-to... Um,” He wets his lips, “Well... Honestly, it kinda started back before you and Harley even became like, a thing.”

Part of him wants to deny fingering himself while thinking of Stiles altogether, but there’s a possible blow job on the line, so he bites the bullet, “I hated you then, or at least I thought I did, but every time I’d touch myself I’d always imagine that it was someone else. At first it was just a blur, some indiscernible face that I couldn’t really put a name to.”

He narrows his brows, “But then the blur manifested into you at some point. It pissed me off, but it-I couldn’t really think about anything else after that, just you. You and your stupid fingers, your dick, the way your mouth is always so hot against my skin.”

Stiles listens quietly, watching the other man’s face as his hands run up and down Jackson’s body, always touching him, but never really touching anywhere significant enough to garner a reaction.

Stiles chuckles when the other man finishes and he leans down to Jackson’s ear once more, “I can just **imagine** how pissed off you were that the thought of me made you wanna touch yourself; I can relate."

"Preparing yourself, and the entire time you’re doing it, you’re thinking of Stiles and his stupid lanky body, my thin fingers grabbing your hips,” He does so, just as he’s saying it, then he turns to lick at Jackson’s lips, kissing him suddenly as he imagines the other man fingering himself in the locker room at school, or a bathroom stall, trying to make it easier for when, if at some point during the day, they get the chance to skip out together.

Stiles looks into Jackson’s eyes and then moves down quickly, body having to curl as he reaches the other end of the bed and he rests his knees on the edge, back hunched as he leans down to take the hard length at the base with one hand before licking carefully, teasingly over the head.

Jackson tries to lean up a little when Stiles moves down suddenly, but the restraints keep him down. There’s a myriad of feelings plaguing him, but the moment he feels the other man’s tongue against the tip of his cock, the only one he can center on is his arousal, and how he’s pretty sure he’s never been so excited for a blowjob before. The only downside is that he can’t touch Stiles.

“I can’t help but feel like you had this planned,” He whines.

“I’ve thought about it a few times,” Stiles admits, dropping his head even lower as he presses his face against Jackson’s skin, feeling the warm, soft brush of the other man’s balls against his cheek as he runs his tongue over Jackson’s taint, nipping the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, “I mean, there’s always something different about it each time I’ve imagined it before, but I like this, too.”

“Oh God,” Jackson breathes out tightly and his length throbs at the way Stiles is teasing him.

It’s good so far, he can feel the anxiousness bubbling up under his skin, but he’s no where near begging for it yet - and he kind of hopes it doesn’t come to that, anyway. Instinctively, Jackson spreads his legs a little more for the other man, “What do you-Uh, what do you think about?” He asks, voice tremulous.

Stiles glances up, “I dunno if you wanna know what I think about, but I guess disclosing a couple scenarios won’t hurt.”

He presses his fingers against the wet skin behind Jackson’s balls and massages it firmly before running his tongue up the shaft, but otherwise keeping himself back.

“The first time,” Stiles lowers his voice as he moves back up, “I imagined you struggling and fighting to stop me, but once you were cuffed and I could do **anything** to you, I fucked your mouth, because you wouldn’t shut up about getting a restraining order."

"Another time, I teased you until you came, and then, when you were sensitive and begging to be released, I put a toy in you - rolling it over your prostate again and again, milking you each time you came, until the bed was _soaking_. Those two are about the easiest to explain.”

“Jesus Christ, Stilinski,” Jackson bites out breathlessly, though as weird as Stiles can be sometimes, it really shouldn’t surprise him that the other man thinks of things like that, “You’re not actually gonna do that, though. Are you?” Stiles had said he wouldn’t make Jackson regret putting his trust in him, so he hopes the other man doesn’t really intend on going back on his word.

“Well, they’re just fantasies, right? I’m not actually **like** that, obviously,” Stiles shrugs and shakes his head, “But, every once in a while, I **do** think about things like that, yeah.”

He smiles at Jackson and winks, “So, I’m gonna blow you, like I promised. You don’t gotta warn me or anything, I mean, I know how this goes. I’ve never done it, but I’ve kinda got one of my own.” It’s probably weird to elaborate beforehand, but he figures it’s best to get that out of the way now.

He moves back down without another word, settling himself back in place before he wraps his lips around the head and sucks the length into his mouth.

“ _Right_ ,” Jackson drawls slowly and nods, but he finds it oddly endearing that Stiles feels the need to lay it all out for him.

He watches the other man with rapt attention and his own mouth pops open as he watches Stiles take him in, the heat suffocating but so, **so** good, and he lets out a long suffering groan as his hips move of their own accord, lifting from the bed slightly.

Stiles keeps himself still as Jackson rises up, his hands soothing along the insides of the other man’s legs as a sign of encouragement before he rolls his tongue over the head and glances up the best he can, meeting Jackson’s eyes as Stiles takes him in completely.

“Fuck,” Jackson gasps and drops his head back against the bed, unable to actually look into Stiles’s eyes while he’s got his mouth on his length. He wants to tell Stiles how amazing his mouth is and how he’s thought of this for a while too, but he doesn’t, and opts for thinking about things to keep him from blowing prematurely.

Stiles moans around Jackson’s dick, running his slick, dripping tongue over the underneath as he bobs his head. His hands move in, one returning to massage the other man’s taint as Stiles’s left cups his balls gently. He’s never really given head before, of course, but it’s not like he hasn’t practiced on _other_ things.

“Oh God, Stiles,” Jackson pants out and stares up at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open, dying to just reach down and touch the other man. It’s something he probably won’t take for granted after this, but for now his body thrums at the way Stiles moans around his length and he clenches his fists, “Your mouth is insane.”

Stiles pulls back a little, concentrating on the head for a moment, sucking the tip and running his tongue over it, groaning appreciatively at the sweet taste of the other man’s pre-come before Stiles takes him back in again. He knew Jackson was shaved _everywhere_ , he’s felt there plenty of times, but he never really anticipated giving a blowjob without having to worry about the whole pubic hair thing; it’s kind of nice.

Jackson is honestly kind of thankful that Stiles is okay with him not warning, because the closer he gets, the more incoherent he’ll get and all that’ll manage to come out is a jumbled mess of words.

Each drag of the other man’s mouth pulls a strangled sounding whimper from him and he tries his hardest to not buck up, toes curling as his muscles tense and when he thinks about the fact that he’s at Stiles’s mercy, he grunts and comes down the other man’s throat.

Stiles feels the length throb in his mouth and he looks up, watching Jackson’s muscles flex and then his mouth is full of come and Stiles swallows quickly, pulling off and pressing warm, breathy kisses along Jackson’s skin as he moves back up and runs his tongue up the other man’s throat before grabbing Jackson’s hips and looking into his eyes, “Good so far?”

“Good-yeah, it’s-” Jackson inhales sharply and nods, “It’s good,” He says a little higher, eyes dropping to Stiles’s mouth, “You should kiss me.” He leans up a little, as far as his restraints let him go and smirks.

“ _If you insist_ ,” Stiles teases, leaning in and kissing Jackson, roughly pushing him back down against the bed.

Stiles runs his tongue over the other man’s lips before slipping it in between them and groaning into Jackson’s mouth, then he pulls back and smiles, “Now, turn over.”

Jackson tries to chase after Stiles’s mouth and frowns at the words, because he’s kind of bound to the bed, “Well, I would if I could, but you’ve kinda got me cuffed to the bed,” He says, then pointedly wiggles his wrists.

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, but they’re twisted,” Stiles says before guiding Jackson over onto his stomach, making sure he doesn’t pinch the skin around the cuffs or attempt to bend an arm the way it isn’t supposed to bend, “You still have **some** moving room.”

Stiles stands up and starts to take off his own pants finally, “Do me a favor, baby?”

Jackson rests his cheek on his forearm and lifts his head a little, “Yeah?” He responds instantly, the pet name doesn’t even bother him anymore. His eyes rake down over Stiles’s chest, following the other man’s hands as they push the jeans down.

Stiles shoves his pants passed his thighs, looking over Jackson’s lithe body, the fine swell of his ass and he tries to keep himself sounding reasonably calm, “Tell me,” He moves back to the bed, climbing behind Jackson and sitting on the backs of his legsas Stiles runs his hands up the other man’s spine, “What you think of doing to me.”

“Stiles,” Jackson starts to complain and he can feel his cheeks heating. It was one thing to tell him about fingering himself, but he’s not sure if he can actually tell Stiles what else he thinks of from time to time.

In all honesty, it’s not a lot. Sure, he’s humored the thought of fucking Stiles, but he likes having the other man’s length inside of him too much to give that up. And as far as blowjobs go, he refuses to put his mouth anywhere near a dick, as bad as it sounds.

“Do I really have to tell you?” He asks, and he’s worried that if he **does** tell Stiles, the other man will more than likely be disappointed with his lack of adventure, “Like... Right now?”

“Mhm,” Stiles says lowly, smirking because it’s about time he got some resistance, “If you want me to do anything else, you’re gonna have to.” He leans in close, licking the shell of the other man’s ear, “I’ve told you the things I think about you, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but...” Jackson shudders at the feel of Stiles’s tongue against his ear, “You’re the one doing things to me, I-I don’t know why you’d wanna know what **I** wanna do to you. This is... Kind of a dick move, you know I’m not really comfortable with spilling my guts.”

Stiles sits back and pulls his hands away from Jackson, his mood effectively killed. He sighs as he gets up and gets dressed before climbing back over the other man and reaching for the key. He unlocks Jackson’s cuffs, then pulls back completely and puts them away.

“I’m gonna go downstairs and order like... Chinese or something, and we can watch a movie or whatever,” He says quickly, then leaves the room before Jackson can say anything more.

He knows he’s probably getting ‘butt hurt’ yet again, but the things the other man says some times just seriously piss him off.

Jackson sits up and rubs at his wrists, frowning at the way Stiles is acting, “Stiles,” He says, but the other man is out of the room.

He gets dressed and kind of regrets his decision to come over, all he seems to be doing is disappointing Stiles and that’s something he could do without. He takes the steps tentatively and goes downstairs, pocketing his hands as he meanders about until he finds the other man.

“I think I should go, you’ve kinda been upset with me all day.”

Stiles hangs up the phone and looks at the other man before nodding silently, “Fine, alright.”

"Go," He motions to the door and then turns around, looking towards the back window of the kitchen and closing his eyes as he tries to breathe and not have a fucking panic attack as his heart races and his bottom lip trembles.

“Listen,” Jackson says slowly, and he hadn’t realized how badly it would hurt to have the other man turn away from him, but it sucks, “I don’t wanna fight with you, believe it or not. I get that most of the time that’s how it happens between us, a heated argument and then we fuck, but I-”

He steps closer and reaches up to touch Stiles’s shoulder, even though he still won’t look at him, “I care about you. So can you just tell me what I’m doing to fuck this up?”

Stiles sighs again and shakes his head, “It’s not you, I’m just being 'butt hurt' again, or whatever. Just go, please, okay?” Stiles knows it sounds bad and clipped, but he can barely breathe or think - he’s shaking, he knows his face has to be red as Hell, so he just keeps his back turned and moves away from Jackson again, “ _Go_.”

Jackson opens his mouth and he considers protesting, but he just shakes his head and backs away, “Alright, if it’s what you want,” He says curtly, then heads towards the front door to let himself out. This is nothing new to him; disappointing people, upsetting them - he really should be used to being pushed away by now.

Stiles sits down on the floor slowly, his heart racing and he presses his hand against it, trying to calm himself down and pacing his breathing. He hasn’t had a panic attack in **years** , it’s actually kind of terrifying to think that it’s _this_ upsetting just trying to be in a relationship with Jackson.

He’s pretty sure he read somewhere that being in a relationship with someone that makes you feel ‘alive’ is actually **not** what you’re supposed to be looking for, but for someone that you can’t ‘live without’.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



	9. Chapter 9

As if Stiles needed another reason to ignore school work, he spends the next two days ditching school and ignoring Jackson, trying to figure out what best to do and how to handle what he decides on.

He knows Jackson has issues with letting people in and admitting things openly, but Stiles also isn’t really in a position to deal with someone that responds so coldly. He gets that maybe he was pushing a little hard, but Jackson handled asking him to back off kind of badly.

It leaves a bad taste in Stiles’s mouth, because he can easily recognize where he went wrong, and he doesn’t like it.

Stiles comes to school on the third day, heart racing as he constantly teeters around having a panic attack any time he thinks of having to talk to Jackson. Stiles sits next to Scott in the lunchroom that morning, watching his cereal as it gets soggy and he finally pushes it away.

Maybe he should’ve waited until next week to do this.

Scott’s brows raise curiously as he watches Stiles push the food away, and if that isn’t a big enough indicator telling him that something’s wrong with his buddy, then he doesn’t know what is, “What’s up, man? You’re kinda sulking.”

“I’m kinda having the shittiest week ever,” Stiles responds as he swallows sickly, “I don’t understand how people do this, but I’m so done with it. I’m not going through this again.” He’s only felt this miserable one other time in his life, and just thinking about the comparison of the two makes him want to throw up.

Scott turns to Stiles then and frowns, because at this point he doesn’t have the slightest clue what the other man is going on about, “What are you even talking about? You’re being cryptic, dude.”

He scratches the side of his head, “Did you let your dad do the shopping again? Because that seriously didn’t work out well last time.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No, dude, it’s so much worse than that, trust me, okay? You’ll probably hear it, anyways, but... Try not to listen to me like... At all today,” He can already feel himself shaking, that familiar feeling of a panic attack settling in, but Stiles follows through the steps he’s had to for the past two days.

_I’m okay, I’m alive, I’m not gonna die from doing this, it’s okay to do this, I need to do this, it’s better for me that I do it now, than it end up fucking me sideways later._

“I don’t wanna hear it from someone else, just tell me what’s up,” Scott insists and with the way Stiles is acting, it’s starting to unsettle him as well, “You can’t just come and sit down with me, insinuate something’s wrong and then not fill me in. I’m pretty sure that’s in regulation of the bro code or something.”

“I’m pretty sure if I tell you, it’s in direct violation of something else, like the boyf code or whatever,” Stiles responds and stands up, “You won’t hear it from someone else, because no one else will know.”

Because no one else even knew him and Jackson were together, and it’s not like Jackson’s told anyone, Stiles definitely hasn’t, “I need to go find Jackson, talk to you later, man.”

“Right, yeah,” Scott nods slowly and turns back around towards his food, “See ya, dude.” Technically, he could just listen in and find out, but he won’t - he’ll wait for Stiles to tell him.

Stiles grabs his bag and wanders off in search of Jackson, telling the other man in the morning is probably a bad idea, but Stiles thinks that waiting will just make it worse. He knows that Jackson is normally barely on time for school, so he heads out to the parking lot first, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he sees the other man’s car and making a beeline for it.

Observation is kind of a talent Jackson’s procured over the years, and not many people realize it, but he notices things. Like how Stiles has been pointedly ignoring him and he knows that it’s probably a mixture of things causing the distance; him not believing Stiles about the werewolf story, him not feeling comfortable enough to tell Stiles what he thinks of doing to him.

In general, it’s his inane ability to not let anyone in that’s pushing the other man away and he’s entirely too aware, and he wishes he wasn’t. He gets out of his car slowly and closes the door, and he’s not at all surprised when he sees Stiles walking towards him with a pensive look on his face.

Stiles frowns as he meets Jackson’s eyes and he stops in front of the other man, wetting his lips as his heart starts racing and his hands sweat profusely in his pockets, “Hey... Uh, can we talk?” His voice is shaky, which isn’t his intent at all, so he tries to take a few breaths to calm down, reminding himself that it’s okay, “Alone, like... _Privately_?”

Jackson swallows nervously and nods, jerks his head towards the end of the school building before leading the way. He’s a lot of things; narrow minded, rude, cynical - but he’s not stupid, and he knows what’s coming.

Turning to Stiles once they’re out of view, Jackson fixes his bag’s strap on his shoulder and shrugs, “What is it?” He asks softly, though he’s sure he already knows.

“I love you,” Stiles starts, his body numbing over and he almost feels like he’s going to pass out, but he swallows and stares at Jackson, fighting the tears and the panic attack as he forces his hands from his pockets, “Like, I seriously do."

"I’m not stupid, I know it’s not puppy love bullshit, because I hate you, too. I’m conflicted a lot, and I’m indecisive, but I know what I want. I wanna be with you, even though you’re an asshole some times, and you have issues, and you say the wrong things **constantly** , and it pisses me off a lot - I still wanna be with you."

"Seriously, that’s-that’s why I didn’t regret breaking up with Harley, it was actually **seriously** easy. Scott made me list all the things I liked about you two, and just thinking about you made my heart race, and I smiled, and-I seriously fucking like you. I’m in love with you.”

Jackson’s mouth hangs open a little bit as he stares at Stiles and it’s not at all what he’d expected to hear, and he doesn’t really know how to react to it, because he’d been anticipating something else entirely. The admission kind of blind sides him and makes his heart flutter, a lump forming in his throat as he looks at Stiles.

“I-” He knows he loves the other man too, but he’s never said those three words aloud to anyone, and now they’re getting caught in his throat at probably the most inopportune time, “Um,” He narrows his brows and looks down to his feet for a moment, then looks back up at Stiles helplessly, because he doesn’t know what to say.

“It's okay, I know,” Stiles says, voice tight as his body starts to shake and his eyes fill with tears, “I know you, I know how you feel, I’ve kinda-” He stops and reaches up to push against his chest, “I’ve kinda known it for a while, you don’t have to say it."

"It’s probably better if you don’t,” Stiles wipes his tears away furiously with the sleeve of his jacket and he stares at the other man sadly, “Because, as much as I love you and wanna be with you, and as much as I know you love me too, I-I need to break up with you.”

Jackson shakes his head slowly, because he doesn’t understand. It’s like he’s been put through some kind of emotional roller coaster. Stiles tells him he loves him and that he knows how he feels too, but then the other man breaks up with him - which is honestly what he expected from the get-go.

“Why?” He asks and it kind of surprises him how shaky his voice is, but he can’t help it.

“Because we’re not good for one another,” Stiles speaks as clearly as he can, even though it’s getting harder to breathe with every word, “You, me, it’s-it isn’t healthy, it’s just-it’s wrong."

"We hated each other, that’s how we started this, we hated each other and then we fucked, and that’s what it was. It’s not a relationship, it’s lust. It’s not good for me - I lost my mom, and every time I fight with you, it’s like I lose her again and again, that’s how it feels. It feels like shit,” He’s practically gasping for air now, body trembling as he forces out the rest.

“And if it’s not good for me, then it’s definitely not good for you. You’re insecure, you don’t need someone like me trying to shove my way in and make this work. We’re fucking teenagers and grasping for straws with a relationship in our adolescent years is just stupid-” Stiles tries to continue but he **literally** can’t breathe, he has to stop, setting his bag down and moving to the edge of the sidewalk to sit down and put his head in his hands.

Jackson’s eyes widen as he watches Stiles, listening to the other man’s labored breathing. He follows him instinctively and sits down next to him, reaching up to rub his back.

“You’re right,” He says, figuring maybe if he takes all of this well enough, perhaps it’ll calm Stiles down. “I don’t wanna do this to you,” He says honestly, “I don’t wanna be the reason you feel like this and if you think this is the answer... Then I’m-” He exhales slowly, “I’m sorry it’s come to this, but I understand. I don’t like constantly disappointing you, anyways. I’m used to disappointing everyone else, my friends, my parents, but I-I can’t handle disappointing someone I actually care about.”

His eyes are beginning to water, so he sniffles and leans to kiss Stiles’s cheek, “I get it,” He concedes softly, then stands to make distance between them.

Stiles shuts his eyes as he feels Jackson kiss him and it’s seriously the worst.

He knows he’s hurt the other man horribly with this, but it’s best he stops it now before it lingers and has the chance to get really, **really** nasty between them. He thought he’d cried the past two days enough to get it out of his system in preparation for this, but now he’s pretty sure that the crying hasn’t even started yet.

It sucks, Stiles doesn’t cry, he isn’t the crying type at all, he didn’t even really cry over Lydia, granted that was mostly because of Jackson, but still. At least now, they’ll both be able to move on and get over one another.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's the end of this fic. There'll likely be a sequel in time (a little later along the line) but this is it fer now. We aimed fer bittersweet pain in the end of this because rly, Jackson and Stiles at THIS stage of Jackson's life? How would that have ever werked out healthily? Both of them were in WAY over their heads.  
> Hope you enjoyed, chances are there'll be more at some point.
> 
> ~WincestSounds


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